Savior of Sweden
by WeWriteTheTruth
Summary: .. or so he was called that.  SuFin
1. Chapter 1

His breaths came out in sharp, ragged pants - tearing through his throat like it was nothing but shriveled, dried-out paper.

_ I'm too soft._ Prince Väinämöinen decided with an inward sigh. His violet eyes were widened fearfully as he shot a glance over his shoulder at his pursuer.

The Finnish prince had long since been a prized item in many's eyes - his whole kingdom being worth more than tenfold of many of the others. Other thieves, countries, and monarchs alike set their greedy, lustful gaze on Tino's wide stretches of land. He was constantly in so much danger, in fact, that he had been assigned a personal guard at all times. But that was exactly what had got him into so much trouble today. A petty thief had posed as his new guard. Tino cursed himself for being so stupid - the man had had such a scrawny build, not to mention there was a sleazy glint in his eye whenever he caught a moment alone with the prince.

_ I should've known._

_ I should've known-! _Tino gasped, nausea beginning to flood in, slowly but surely overpowering his ability to continue. His small, slender frame wasn't used to running, let alone running this far.

_ Just a little bit longer! _he told himself, attempting to strengthen his resolve.His footsteps thudded dully on the grass as he sprinted with all his might, occasionally stumbling over the princely clothes. The castle was growing larger and larger in the distance. If only he could make it to the gate.. if only one of the other guards could spot him in time. One of the maids had given him an ornate dagger, straight from the king, to conceal in his cloak. Tino doubted he would be skilled with the blade - and if he had the choice between fight, or flight.. he'd definitely be picking flight.

Early this morning, the 'guard' had suggested they take the horses out for a ride. They were rarely used, the the castle equestrian expert was beginning to grow tired of taking the large animals out for exercise all by himself. It was either that, or put up with their impatient huffs and hoof pounding all week. It drove a man crazy.

Tino agreed - he hadn't been out of the castle in ages. The guard had seemed in an odd mood today, the prince realized as he thought back. Fidgeting, averting his bloodshot eyes from the bright violet ones. Moving around as if he thought he was as sly and clever as a fox.

"Isn't the weather just _lovely_ today, my prince?" the guard seemed to almost sneer as their horses trotted farther and farther out into the lush fields - the stable leaving the Finn's vision all together.

"Hm..?" Tino blinked in surprise when he saw the expression of the other, and steadily stared down at the soft mane of his horse. "I suppose so." he decided in a softer voice, wondering what could have made the other look so.. _evil_.

After about an hour, the guard posed a suggestion, "Why don't we sit here and rest, my prince?" he drawled, the corners of his lips twitching upward.

The moment Tino agreed and slid off his horse, the other had drawn his sword with an eery shrill scrape that grated on the prince's nerves.

"W-what are you doing?" he demanded, taking several quick steps backward. "There's no one around. You have no r-reason to draw your sword!" the Finn's voice grew more and more shrill, as realization struck him. This.. this _man _didn't care for his well being. He merely wanted some extra change in his usually empty pockets!

That was when the prince flitted away, earning a loud protest and a choice profanity from his 'guard'.

"Help..!" Tino finally screeched with all his might, the words being muffled by his thick, heavy breath. Swallowing painfully, the prince decided if he made it out of this alive, he was going to drink more glasses of water everyday. He could feel his heart thudding in his temples, and it was leaping around nearly as wildly as he was - powered by the surge of adrenaline and fear. But he could feel the organ growing weary.

"Help!" he repeated, legs throbbing painfully with the effort of keeping his body moving. The faint noise had caught the attention of the palace guards who usually tended the main gate. After surveying the situation, they ultimately decided that things weren't.. right. The pair of the the thick, well-muscled men charged at Tino's pursuer.

"Thank goodness.." he murmured in utter relief, collapsing with a soft 'thud' into the thick grass as he passed the guards who had come to his aid. Silently, he crossed himself and thanked God. He'd never doubt his beliefs again He heard the short scuffle from several feet away, but the imposter was easily captured.

"I'll have your fortune! I'll have y-" the thief screeched, flailing wildly until one of the palace guard's clamped an armored hand over his mouth - shooting him a disgusted expression as if this was the last thing he wanted his armor to come in contact with.

_ How such a scrawny man was hired to be my protector, I'll never know. _the prince thought with a deep sigh, his sandy blonde hair sticking to his forehead in clumps from the exertion. He'd have to have a nice talk with whoever was in charge of that.

"I'm a mess." the Finn frowned to himself and got to his feet - after he had regained his lost breath. .. Which had admittedly taken over twenty minutes. His clothes had gone all askew, and he was missing the hat he had taken with him, along with some of the rings his slender fingers usually bore. He brushed himself off and hurried back into the castle, as fast as he weary legs could take him.

The next day, Tino took his time getting ready, so he could present himself at his best. He had arranged a meeting with the head of the palace guard, a Dane - Mathias Pedersen. He was a goofy.. sometimes obnoxious fellow who loved nothing more than to act like an utter ass. The majority of the time he'd tell a joke and the room would fall awkwardly silent, instead of bursting out with laughter. But he did his job well, and that was what mattered. The Finn swore that sometimes you wouldn't be able to tell he was one of the best strategists in the world - having never lost a battle. The pale, ghost white scars were the only telltale signs to that.

"So what did you come here for today, ol' Tino?" Mathias shot him one of his massive grins as the prince entered his room. His fingers were currently occupied with idly twirling a knife on his desk. Tino shivered, one slip of his hand and the dagger could quite possibly embed itself into somebody's ribcage. Though, he laughed softly when he heard the usual, informal nickname the Dane had given him. "I've got a problem, Mathias."

"A problem? Well jeez, that doesn't sound good at all." Mathias tore his deep, azure gaze and set it onto Tino's. Something about those eyes always managed to reassure him. "Let's hear it."

"Well.. about the.. _guard_ you assigned me.."

"Yeah? Go on." the Dane's interest was already slipping as the prince failed to get right to the point.

"He was awful."

"What do you mean, awful? He seemed like a nice guy. Gave me some good beer."

Tino pinched the bridge of his nose - feeling the urge to laugh while also wanting to hit Mathias for his stupidity. He had one sure weakness. Alcohol. "The beer may have been good, Mathias but-" the prince shook his head and decided to come right out. "He tried to kidnap me."

"It tasted really expensive too, I wonder how much h-" the head of the palace guard broke off, having been rambling. His blue eyes widened, "He _what_? Oh, that's not right." He leaned back in his chair and stuck his feet onto the table, shaking his head mournfully.

"As I was saying.." Tino coughed quietly, hoping to grab his attention again. He couldn't help but be sporting a small smile. "I was hoping maybe you could, I don't know.. assign me a guard who _won't_ try to kill me?"

"I think I can do that.." Mathias said thoughtfully, running his hands through his already overly-tousled hair. Suddenly he sat forward in his chair, snapping his fingers and causing the Finn to jump. "I've got it! I know just the guy. Not much to talk to but.. some people say he's the best warrior in all of Sweden."

"He's Swedish?" Tino arched an eyebrow, curiosity growing at the base of his stomach. "Are you sure we can trust him?"

"Definitely sure." the Dane nodded and his voice grew comically serious. "It's been said that.. he's never lost a fight. No one's ever been able to land a single blow on him. Some even call him a heaven-sent saint."

The prince's violet eyes grew wider as he leaned forward with interest. "Really..?" he breathed, blinking. He had always been one for fairytales, in fact, he swore he had seen a dwarf in the gardens one day..

Mathias laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "I'm sure it's mostly just legend - stories and stuff. I wouldn't focus too much on that." he paused, "Tell you what. I'll even get him here by the end of the week, just for you." he added a wink for emphasis.

The Finn smiled sincerely and nodded, thanking him as he stood up and left.

For once, Tino felt like he could actually feel safe.

It was suggested (more like forced) that he stay inside until his new protector arrived - so everyone would be able to keep a better eye on him. Tino hated the attention, and penned himself up in his room. Luckily, he had Hanatamago - his fluffy, white dog to keep him company. One of the maids often told him fondly that she resembled a piece of freshly plucked cotton. .. The prince _hoped_ that was a compliment.

"What do you think he's going to be like, Hanatamago?" he questioned, tilting his head quizzically at the dog.

She yapped softly and rolled over. Tino had guessed she wouldn't know the answer.

"I hope he's nice. I've always wanted a good friend..." he said thoughtfully, running his hands through the dog's thick coat. "Maybe he'll even be a dog person!" he joked, laughing.

Hanatamago barked in agreement. She thought that would be a good idea too.

"Ha, of course you'd like that." Tino ruffled her fur with a grin before letting out a soft yawn. "He's coming tomorrow, Hana.. we'll find out then, I guess."

A sharp, impatient knock at his chambers jostled the Prince from his slumber. Sunlight was streaming heavily through the window, causing the already warm room to become uncomfortably hot. Darn it. He had slept in "Yes?" he called, his voice heavy with sleep.

Mathias' voice sounded through the door. "I've got a surprise for you!"

"A surprise..?" Tino repeated to himself, momentarily confused. He didn't have much time to think it over as the Dane threw open the door.

"Rise _annnd_ shine, beautiful..!" he called loudly, too loudly for this early in the morning for it caused Tino to wince. "

_Fuck him for being such an early riser._ Tino thought, a rarely used profanity surfacing in his brain. "What is it, Mathias?" he said impatiently through a loud yawn.

That's when another figure entered the room. The first thing the prince noticed was the _sheer_ size of the man. No, no.. he wasn't fat - but tall. Extremely and hugely tall. He had to have been over six-feet. Tino's amethyst gaze slowly slid up to the man's face and he immediately jumped, feeling self-conscious under the intensity of his gaze. The 'giant' had a head of soft, light blonde hair and a pair of sharp piercing sea-green eyes that seemed as cold as the Arctic sea itself.

_ It feels like he could see right through me. _the prince though to himself with a small shiver, pulling his embroidered covers right up to his chin. "W-who's this..?" he finally forced out, though it sounded like more of a squeak. Tino's cheeks flushed, now realizing that on top of that, he had bedhead as bad as a haystack.

"Exactly who I've been tellin' you about, Finny." Mathias told him, smirking at the expression on his face. "This is Berwald. Berwald Oxenstierna. Otherwise known as the 'Savior of Sweden'."

Berwald raised his right hand in recognition, a slight bit of curiosity sparking in his eyes - replacing some of the coldness. It was funny, seeing royalty like this. His hair all ruffled and his face still sleepy.

_If only his hair was longer. _Tino mused, imagining a thick lions mane on the man. _He certainly looks scary enough to be a lion._

"I'm T-Tino." the Finn finally spoke, cursing himself at the stammer. It seemed anyone could break under the power of that gaze. .. Well, anyone save Mathias.

The Dane looked back and forth between the duo, the feeling of awkwardness in the room gradually climbing. "Well then." he clasped his hands together and rocked back and forth on his heels for a moment. "I'll let you two.. get _acquainted._" And with that being said, he vanished - leaving Tino completely, and utterly alone.

"S'rry for int'rruptin' you." the 'lion' finally grunted. It took the prince several long moments to distinguish what he had said through the thick, heavy accent. Berwald's voice had a rough tone to it, but he could find that it was slightly warm and kind as well.

Tino quickly shook his head, "N-no, no..! It's fine!" he assured him, though, he casually tried to smooth the few strands of hair that insisted on defying gravity.

The Swede raised an eyebrow slightly, "'ll be outs'de." he said, before exiting the room and closing the ornate door behind him.

The prince let out a soft sigh of relief, all the air that he had been holding in suddenly escaping. His chambers had grown even more uncomfortably hot, he realized. And going over the Swede's face in his head, he tried to decide if he was handsome or not.

Certainly he had manly features - the sharp cheekbones and the lean muscles that were still apparent under the armor he wore. Tino safely assumed yes. He wondered what the man would look like if he actually smiled. .. Could he smile? The prince thought this over next.. his expression had seemed so cold, perhaps he had some sort of disease or defect..!


	2. Chapter 2

Tino scrambled to get something, anything, on. He didn't like the thought of keeping the giant outside waiting for long. If it seemed like Berwald's eyes could see through him.. maybe they could see through the door. He quickly hurried into the closet to change, tripping over a sock.

_ Really, Tino. Of all things to trip over in the world, you pick a sock._ He sighed and shook his head as his fingers fumbled awkwardly with the hems and fabrics of his richly colored garments. Someone usually dressed him, but there wasn't time for that today.

The prince had long since wanted to wear read and white - but one of the maids admonished him, clucking her tongue. She claimed he'd look like a gaudy peppermint sweet, and besides, he hadn't a round enough figured to pull it off. Tino then tried to imagine himself with a large amount of extra.. 'baggage'. That terrifying image was enough to keep him from wearing the said colors. For now. He poked his stomach experimentally. .. Perhaps he'd cut the sweets down a bit.

Tino also decided to skip the jewelry - as his neck was throbbing painfully from that stupid fifty-pound amulet he had to wear yesterday. The trinkets also would just get in his way, as he'd probably be showing Berwald around and getting him used to the place. Something about the thought of that excited the Finn slightly, but an unsettling feeling came to the base of his stomach. He wasn't sure his speech would remain for long when he'd be alone with the man who so much resembled a lion.

"Y'lmost ready?" Berwald finally said through the thick wooden door, one of his feet drifting off to sleep outside.

Tino froze, having been pulling up his britches. He had to stop getting lost in his thoughts like that when he had someone waiting for him. Mathias had impatiently complained about that one sole quirk of his enough for him to realize he did it from time to time.

"Y-yes..!" the Prince replied, multiplying his efforts to get ready. Soon, he pulled open the door and shyly looked up. "Alright, we can go." he spoke up, his blonde hair ruffled from pulling clothes over his head.

A small, miniscule smile tugged at the corners of Berwald's lips. So tiny, in fact, that it was barely noticeable. But Tino was always one for detail. His cheeks flushed when he saw the man simply staring down at him with a pair of sea green eyes. "W-what are you looking at?" he questioned in a pitch higher than usual.

The Swede's large hand slowly and albeit slightly hesitantly made its way to the top of Tino's head. The Prince immediately paled, his thoughts making a quick turn for the worse.

_Is he going to hit me?_

_ I knew I shouldn't have trusted Mathias.. he's an ass._

_ Would he strangle me to death? I have nothing valuable on me._

... _At least he's handsome. _

The last statement that formed in his mind surprised even Tino, but before he even had a moment to react, the stream of his irrational mind was silenced. Curious violet eyes creeped upwards as Berwald's hand attempted to coax one particular brave, stubborn blond hair that insisted on defying gravity to lie flat. His hands were surprisingly gentle, and the Finn instinctively leaned into the touch - when suddenly, it wasn't there anymore.

"It was buggin' m'." Berwald grunted sheepishly and gestured towards Tino's hair.

He blinked, "Oh." The giant fell silent, waiting for the prince to speak and give him an order.

".. Shall I give you the tour?" Tino finally joked, using his best mock-princely voice. The familiar small smile returned to the knight's face.

"Yes, sir."

The Finn started down the hallway, beckoning for the other to follow. The sound of footsteps spooked him... but then he remembered it was just Berwald. Though, he had some reason to be alarmed. The Swede could see Tino's form under the tunic as it hugged his figure.. and he didn't mind.

"Did Mathias tell you where you'd be staying?"

Berwald blinked, his thoughts returning back to reality. "Yes." But he seemed slightly awkward about his answer.

"Where is it?" Tino asked, glancing over his shoulder. "I know where everything in the castle is, obviously." he laughed.

Berwald paused, his brow furrowing. ".. M'supposed t'stay with y'." The prince immediately blushed at the thought - where in the world would he be sleeping? There wasn't another bed. And he enjoyed the rare time he got to himself, sometimes the day would just be painfully and excruciatingly long and he just had to-

"Sir?" Berwald grunted, looking slightly concerned behind his glasses. "Y'don't look well." he noted, spotting the soft pink blush that had settled on Tino's cheeks.

"I'm fine!" the prince insisted, frantically rubbing his cheeks as if he thought that would help. The knight didn't look convinced but he shifted back into his royal stance - back straight as a board and arms at his side. "Where t'next, sir."

"Don't call me sir." Tino said, his lip curling downward into a small pout. "It makes me seem stuffy."

Berwald smirked slightly but nodded. "M'sorry. Wh't sh'ld I call y'then?"

"Just Tino's fine. It is my name, after all."

"'lright, T'no."

The Finn liked how his name was spoke by that rough, rich voice. It made his lips curl up into a smile.

Their last stop on the 'tour' was the castle gardens. Berwald kind of.. stumped Tino. In a way that he had never been stumped before. He never talked about himself, well... he never talked much at all. Tino found himself wanting to know more about the man that stood beside him, even if it was just his favorite color. And why did everyone gape at them if he was either some kind of monster or a God?

"Hey, I never asked.. what do you want me to call you?"

"Hm?" Berwald had been lost in thought as he looked intently out at the rich, vibrant hues of the flowers. This made the Finn even more curious - what could someone like him possibly be thinking about? Maybe bigger people had bigger brains. ... That certainly wasn't the case for Mathias when it came to anything besides war.

"What would you like me to call you?" Tino repeated, his eyes bright as he set his gaze on the man.

"Berwald's jus'fine.."

"Berwald, huh? It suits you."


	3. Chapter 3

".. It does?" Berwald raised an eyebrow slightly, smiling. The prince was beginning to like that quirk about him. Those smiles made his ear-to-ear ones look silly and fake.

"Yes. Has anyone ever told you that you look like a lion?" Tino blurted out before he really gave the question much thought. His cheeks took on a red tinge of embarrassment after he realized.

"A lion?" the knight shook his head, the smile managing to slowly grow when he saw the flush on the other's face. ".. No. People d'nt talk t'me much." His expression changed, falling slightly - he was more lonely than he'd like to be.

"Why not?" though, Tino thought he already knew the answer. When you first caught sight of Berwald, he seemed to have an expression like he was in pain or just simply angry. But Tino was slowly seeing another side of the lion - one that _smiled_. It made the edges of his eyes crinkle up slightly, the ice blue in his eyes slowly melting to show a deeper pool of azure. The prince enjoyed these rare moments, but for some odd reason he didn't understand, it caused a wild, fluttering feeling in his chest. Like a dove had been captured and was straining to be freed from its prison.

"Dunno." Berwald shrugged his shoulders halfheartedly and looked back out at the flowers. His gaze seemed to be concealing something else.

"Oh." Tino blinked. A silence was drawn out between the two of them, and that's when he realized that Berwald probably wasn't going to be the best conversation starter he'd ever know. He wondered if the giant would ever open up - did he actually have feelings past the cool, steely exterior? The prince sighed softly to himself, but finally broke the quiet. "What's your favorite color, Berwald?"

"Hm.." he seemed to think about this carefully, his eyebrows drawing together. "Blue. 'Nd yours?"

"Red." Tino answered without any hesitation.

"'S that why yer wearin' it?" Berwald questioned, gesturing towards the red tunic the Finn wore.

"Huh..? I didn't even notice I was wearing red!"

A soft rumbling sound could be heard from the giant, and Tino immediately looked over - assuming he had choked on some.. some butterfly that had gone by! Who knew? Then he realized that Berwald was _laughing_. Really, really laughing. The moment was gone has soon as it came, and the lion retreated back into his formerly cold shell. "Red l'ks good on y'." he stated, surveying the prince through slightly narrowed eyes.

Tino immediately grew self-conscious now that the attention had turned on him and he curled in on himself. "Ahaha..! Um, thanks!" he said with a slightly nervous laugh, his cheeks glowing a rosy pink.

That was one thing Berwald had noticed about Tino straight off the bat. His skin was so delicately pale - he wouldn't call it translucent, but.. it was obvious he had lived a life of luxury and pampering. It was easy to spot a blush on his face whenever it arose. "Mm."

"S-so.. let's go inside, huh? It's stuffy out here." the Finn used the weather as an excuse for his flushed skin.

"R'ght, si-" Berwald stopped himself mid-sentence. "T'no."

Tino laughed and scampered towards the castle entrance, leaving the other to try and catch up. It wasn't going to be easy keeping an eye on him if he kept flitting away like this. "So why do you like blue?" he called over his shoulder, his lips sporting a rather large and - was that mischievous? - smile.

The knight gestured upwards, "Th'sky." He paused, thinking - and Tino ultimately noticed his eyebrows draw together again. "Color of m'homel'nd."

"You're from.. Sweden, correct?"

"How'd y' know." At first, Tino thought he was just being slow. The accent the man had made it extremely obvious to anyone had some amount of brains. But then he realized that Berwald was joking, smirking slightly. It was hard to read the giant's face, but he thought he was slowly getting better at it.

"The accent gave it away." the prince shrugged dramatically and laughed. In the distance, bells chimed faintly. "Oh.. that means it's time for lunch. Guess we missed breakfast. Come on."

Berwald found himself at a large, intricately carved dark wooden table. He was sat at the left of Prince Tino in a rather less ornate chair - not that he minded. The Finn's chair was so tall, in fact, that his head rose above the knight's towering one.

"Midget." Tino laughed, before daintily sipping a spoonful of white, creamy soup.

Berwald looked down at his own spoon, wondering if he'd be able to pull that off as well as the other did with his large hands. It certainly smelled good enough.. and well, no one was really paying much attention to him. The dining room was empty except for the pair of them. Perhaps manners wouldn't matter much.

Tino noticed his hesitation and immediately frowned - did Berwald find something wrong with the food? "Are you not happy with soup? I can always have the cook make something else.."

The lion quickly shook his head. "S'fine." he grunted, beginning to attempt to eat. The Finn could spot his awkwardness as his hand dwarfed the spoon, and a small laugh erupted from his mouth.

"Wh'ts so funny?" the Swede looked at him quizzically.

"Nothing!" Tino chimed, but he attempted to giggle. "But.. you have some soup ther- aah..!" On his way to wipe a bead of soup off of Berwald's chin he dumped his entire bowl on himself.

That's when the familiar rumbling sound returned. Berwald was laughing at him. Tino blushed and averted his gaze, fixing his violet eyes onto his now wet lap. "Shush, Berwald."

The knight cleared his throat and fell silent, but his eyes still seemed to be laughing all on their own.

Once Tino had changed, the sky was growing darker - blue-violet with tinges of orange. The prince lounged on his bed while Berwald was seated in a chair by the window. "It's pretty, isn't it?"

For a moment Berwald thought Tino was talking about himself, and he was about to agree - then he realized that the Finn was looking out at the sunset. He nodded a bit and closed his mouth, thankful he hadn't said anything rash or stupid.

"You said you like the sky. How come?"

The Swede was silent for a long moment, and Tino had almost thought he was just ignoring him when he finally spoke, "S'open. There's no limits."


	4. Chapter 4

Tino blinked his amethyst gaze in surprise, it seemed Berwald thought about things more deeply than he led on. What could possibly be going on in that cranium of his? A yawn erupted traitorously from his mouth, causing Berwald to turn, "Y'tired?"

"No." the prince lied immediately, shaking his head as energetically as a half-passed out person could. Unfortunately, his body soon disobeyed him as he sunk deeper and deeper into his silk pillows - his eyes sliding shut slowly. Berwald seemed amused at the sight as he leaned back in the chair. He hadn't seen why Tino tried to lie in the first place. He was awful at it. The Finn looked so.. so.. adorable when he slept. His thick eyelashes would flutter ever so often, his chest rising and falling slowly with small sighs. His small frame soon began to quiver however, his teeth chattering.

The room must have been chilly, but Berwald couldn't tell under the thick shell of armor he was wearing. But, he quickly stood up and pulled the rich red and gold covers over Tino. The prince nearly vanished all together then, under the mounds of bedding. That bed was really far too large for him.

The Swede cracked a soft smile and began to strip himself of his stuffy, sweaty armor. It was a relief when the cold air from the window came in contact with his skin and he sighed contentedly as he sunk back into the high backed chair. He wasn't much worried about someone sneaking through the window - they were at least five stories up into the air. And as for the door, well, it was locked. And Berwald was a light sleeper. Slumber soon settled upon him as well, and it was perhaps the most peaceful one he'd had in a very long time.

As morning grew and quickly took over the evening sky, soft sunlight streamed through the window - causing everything in the room to almost glow. Tino's eyes slowly fluttered open, squinting and putting a hand up in hopes he could block out the rays. And that's when he saw it. Part of him now understood why people called Berwald a saint. A savior. The sun hit his light blonde hair so perfectly, it caused it to glow gold - resembling a halo. The lion's glasses had slipped off his nose while he slept, and a soft expression had fallen onto his face. He wore only a sky blue tunic, which dipped low enough to expose the rich tanned skin of his collarbone. Tino didn't know how to explain it but.. it was beautiful, in a way. Was beautiful the right word? He wasn't sure.

.. Maybe he could get Mathias to tell him more about the legend. He was too scared to ask Berwald himself. The Swede might get offended or something - he didn't know. Mathias wasn't exactly a trustworthy character, but perhaps he could persuade him _not_ to tell the lion the questions he was asking about him. Tino climbed out of bed as silently as he could, so as not to wake the slumbering knight. It wasn't like anything would happen to him when he was still in the safety of the castle's stone walls. He placed Berwald's glasses carefully on the nightstand, changed his clothes, and quickly scampered out of the room.

Tino's knuckles rapped as sharply as he could on Mathias' door. The wood was thick, and if his knock was quiet enough, Mathias would pretend not to have heard him to get out of work. "Who is it?" the voice answered from inside, sounding sleepy.

"Tino..!" the prince called back, twiddling his thumbs while he waited. After several long seconds, the door swung open. "Were you sleeping?" he questioned when he saw the sight of the Dane - grains of wood imprinted into his face.

"... So what was it you needed?"

Tino snorted. "I have a question for you, Mathias."

"Shoot." he said through a gaping yawn. _The dirty little liar.. _Tino thought with an eyeroll.

"What else do you know about.. Berwald?"

"Why do _you_ want to know?" Mathias questioned with a raised eyebrow, one of his classic smirks climbing onto his face - which never meant well.

The Finn caught his tone, blushed, and quickly shook his head. "Ahaha.. it's not like that! He's my.. knight, you know? It's only normal that I want to know about his background!" he protested with a nervous laugh.

".. Alright, if you say so." the Dane didn't look like he believed one single bit of Tino's story. "What do you want to know?"

"What made him so famous..? I mean, why does everyone look at him like he's so special?"

"You really want to know?"

"I wouldn't be asking you if I didn't, Mathias."

"Alright, so.." and thus began the tale. "Have you ever heard of the Huldra, Tino?"

"Hul.. what?"

Mathias snickered. "Never mind. Anyways, a lot of the men in Sweden were disappearing and their families were starting to grow worried. The children soon wanted to go in search of their daddies, but no one would let them. It was too dangerous. It was about that time when Berwald, _your_ Berwald, was called to go on a quest to look for the lost men. He was the youngest, and the strongest of all the other men in his village."

Tino could believe that part. His eyes had widened in interest and soon, he wasn't able to stop listening any longer.

The Dane continued, "It was the _Huldra_ who had captured all the men. A dangerous _Seductress _who lived deep in the woods. She lured men into the woods - appearing in the rain and mist, so friendly and so enticing that no man could ever hope to resist."

Tino cut him off, "What does this have to do with Berw-"

"Shhhh." Mathias put a finger to his lips. "I'm not finished. Anyways, the men would soon find that she wasn't the woman of their dreams anymore. She had claws as sharp as a dagger - and a long cow's tail she tied under her skirt. She was a monster. The Huldra lured them into the forest to suck the life out of them, so that someday, she could gain her freedom. It took Berwald several days to find her lair, and he was beginning to give up hope. The stench when he entered was.. disgusting. Imagine the slop the cook dumps outside but worse."

The prince's eyes widened in understanding and he nodded.

"When he saw the drained, sickly bodies of the men piled around the cave - he immediately grew scared. Surely he was no match for the monster that had caused this. A man near the edge of the cave seemed to have enough strength to warn Berwald, telling him to leave. Telling him to never come back. Berwald immediately tried to help the man anyways, but his skin crumbled under his touch. 'The mermaids..' the man whispered. 'The mermaids..'"

"Mermaids? I thought they weren't re-"

"Shhhh. Seriously, Tino. Shut up. Do you want to hear the rest or not?" Mathias folded his arms and stared at him, as if this was all his fault.

Tino shrunk back into the chair and nodded quickly. "Yes. Yes I do." he squeaked.

"That's what I thought. Now shush. Berwald thought the same as you, but sought the place where it was fabled they lived. A deep trench off of the coast of Sweden. He went alone - not wanting to drag some other poor soul into the trouble he was in. Berwald spent _weeks_ of stormy days and foggy nights at sea. The fog was so thick, you could almost _feel_ it."

".. Really?" the Finn breathed.

"Yeah. Didn't I tell you to be quiet?"

"Sorry."

"As I was saying, the fog was thick and stuff, and after weeks and weeks, Berwald saw a light. A soft, golden light. It whispered softly and gently to him, coaxing him closer. The light began to spread, widening until he saw perched on the jagged rocks three beautiful mermaids. Mermaids were good-natured beings and sought to guide lost sailors and ships on their way. People even said that they could tell the future. Berwald pleaded with them and begged for their help - asking if there was some way he could possibly help his people."

"Th-they didn't drown him, did they?"

"I said they were _good_-natured. Not bad." Mathias laughed and rolled his eyes. ".. The mermaids decided to take pity on him, and because he was pure of heart, they made the next decision to help him. A golden glow enveloped Berwald, and as it left, he found a dagger in his hands. 'Take this,' the mermaids told him, voices speaking as one. 'Touch it to her skin. It purifies all darkness.' He thanked them as much as he could, and began his journey back. He was travel-worn, but the moment he returned he set out to kill the monster that plagued his village."

Tino bit down on his palm anxiously, having obviously been drawn into the story.

"The Huldra tried the same old tricks on Berwald, whispering sly words of encouragement and praises. But Berwald's head remained clear, as he walked right into the mist the surrounded her. Having thought she had won again, the Huldra led him to her lair - keeping up her stream of compliments. It was then, that she noticed the dagger. She laughed evilly saying, 'What is this trickery? You think a mere man like you could defeat _me_? _Huldra_?' Berwald ignored her has best he could, charging at her with all his strength - the dagger pointed for her heart. The Huldra noticed the bravery in his heart. He hadn't come here for himself or for worldly desires. He had come here for his people. She poised her claws at his own heart. This was the soul she had been waiting for. This soul would set her free."

Tino gasped unintentionally. Berwald was going to die.. or.. something! Even if this wasn't a true story, he wanted the good guy to win. Like always.

"The claws bit into Berwald's chest, digging their way towards his heart. With his last bit of strength, he plunged the dagger into her arm. Steam hissed loudly from the wound and she screamed, gray stone spreading across her skin from where the dagger had broken her skin. Soon, she was fully frozen. Forever. Life flowed from her body back into the men. Wrinkled bodies became what they used to be - strong, and muscled. They carried the unconscious Berwald, praising him and crying that he was the Savior of Sweden." Mathias paused for effect. ".. That was when he was considered a hero. But he accomplished much, much more after that. The end."

The prince clapped enthusiastically and leaned forward, his purple eyes wide with curiosity. "Is that a true story?"

"Some people say he still has the scar today.."


	5. Chapter 5

"So.. you said he 'accomplished much more'. What does that mean? What else did he do? Can you tell me?" Tino asked excitedly, leaning forward with wide violet eyes that seemed to almost dance with anticipation.

Mathias yawned loudly and propped his scuffed soles onto the desk - dents recorded in the desk from where he previously did. "I'm _real_ tired, buddy."

"Oh... pleeeeease?" the Finn's lip curled into a soft pout.

The Dane sighed. That pout could work wonders. "Later, I promise." he paused with his hand over his heart. A smirk slowly grew onto his face, "Why don't you go try and find out if he has the scar?"

".. Good idea!" Tino nodded seriously. This was killing him.

"I'm sure a little thing like you could seduce a guy like him no problem."

The prince's cheeks slowly spread to a thick shade of pink, "I-I don't know what you're talking about..!" he stammered out a protest, averting his gaze. Though Mathias had given him an idea. He was aching to know if it was a true story or not. Why hadn't Berwald told him about all these amazing adventures he had been on? Modest little bastard.

"... Um. I have to go now." Tino mumbled, his amethyst eyes locked firmly onto the stone tiles.

"Have fun..!" Mathias called with a sly wink and a wave as the Finn quickly scrambled out of the room.

Tino gasped and mentally smacked himself on the forehead when he entered the hallway. He really, really hoped that Berwald hadn't woken up yet. He didn't want the giant to arise and find his bed cold and empty... he already felt bad enough that Berwald had to sleep in that stiff, wooden chair...

The prince hadn't realized he was running until he smacked right into something cold.. and metal with a loud clang. He experienced a weightless feeling as he twisted through the air towards those hard, hard stone tiles. He clenched his eyes shut fearfully - waiting for the painful impact.

But it never came.

Something strong wrapped tightly around his slim torso and pulled him back out of oblivion. He found himself pressed to the metal object.

_What the...?_ Tino slowly slid his eyes upward to find out who possibly could have been able to catch him in time. His gaze met an intense icy blue one that was filled with something. .. Was it concern? His cheeks flushed a dark crimson under the intensity, it was like red wine had been splashed directly onto his face. "A-ah..! Um, hi Berwald!" he chirped nervously, afraid for what would come next.

_ Darn you, Mother Nature... _he cursed mentally - sensing his cheeks grow even hotter. He quickly looked back down.

"I w's worried 'bout y'.." Berwald mumbled in a voice much softer than usual. Tino then felt the Swede's heartbeat - it was hammering against his chest. .. Piecing things together, Tino figured out that the knight had been running around the castle. Looking. For him.

Guilt slowly burrowed and wormed its way into the pit of Tino's stomach and he looked back up, "I'm sorry. I was just asking Mathias something." he mumbled sheepishly.

_I guess I could've at least left him a note.._

Berwald's face seemed to turn a feathery soft shade of rosy pink when he realized how close he was holding the Finn. How close to his heart - the one thing that always seemed to give him away. The prince thought he might have imagined the blush, with how light it was. He never thought a giant like Berwald would _blush_. Either way, the warmth that had surrounded him only moments before vanished.

"I'm sorry." he repeated genuinely, looking even more guilty.

Berwald's gloved hand gently lifted Tino's face by the chin and he cracked a delicate smile. "S'okay, T'no." He didn't want the Finn to beat himself up over something so trivial. In his mind, princes and nobility never really felt bad about things they did. They just lived. They seemed like some unreachable object you knew was there, but couldn't quite grasp. Tino was gradually teaching him that they were real people, with real feelings. Warm blood pumped through their veins, not ice.

"Ah, are you sure?" the prince asked timidly, twiddling his thumbs.

"Mm." Berwald nodded, the smile growing wider.

"Then I have a question for you, Berwald." Tino offered a small smile, his curiosity refusing to wait any longer. "Could you teach me how to swim?"

The giant blinked, looking slightly confused. But he agreed all the same, with a small nod. "Why?"

"J-just because..! You'll never know when you have to make a hasty escape off a pirate ship, right..? Or something like that.." he ranted. He felt himself quite the genius with this little plan. Nobody swam with clothes on. .. Or at least, he hoped Berwald didn't. That would defeat the purpose altogether. He was _definitely _going to see if that scar was real or not.

Berwald laughed softly, "'lright. I c'n do th't."

Tino nearly jumped giddily up and down. "Great! This afternoon, okay? When it's not so hot. We can go swim in the creek. I showed you it, right?"

The knight nodded and turned, "Guess I b'tter ch'nge."

The Finn nodded quickly, "Me too! I can't swim in these." he pulled at his loose garments. Without thinking, he snagged Berwald's larger hand and tugged on it. "Let's go!" he said with a wide smile.

Berwald's large heart fluttered weakly at the contact, and all he could manage was a hasty nod. He wasn't quite sure how Tino managed to look so.. perfect all the time. He practically glowed.

Once they reached the room, Berwald waited while Tino dug through his closet for something suitable to wear. Pieces of clothing randomly flew across the room, leaving the giant to only dodge him as best he could. "Perfect!" he heard the Finn exclaim as he held up a small tunic. "Now look away..!" he waved at Berwald insistently, blushing. "I'm going to get dressed."

The knight blinked and quickly turned so his back was facing Tino. Oh, how he longed to sneak a peek. But he wanted the other to trust him, and that.. certainly wouldn't be a very good start. So he remained where he was.

".. Okay, done!" Tino smiled before shoving Berwald towards the closet.. was that excitement? "Now you!"

".. 'Kay.." Berwald grunted, looking slightly puzzled - but once inside he stripped off the heavy armor, letting out a small sigh of relief. He'd remove anything else he needed to there. "R'dy."

The Finn spun back around in a flash, expecting to see a shirtless, tan.. and admittedly gorgeous Berwald. Sure, his shirt was formfitting - but Tino pouted nonetheless.

"Wh't's wrong..?" the giant's face fell slightly, spotting the pout. He hadn't done something wrong, had he? Sure, he was taking his sword.. but only for precautionary reasons.

"Ah, nothing..! Let's go, shall we?" Tino gushed, quickly snagging his hand and jerking Berwald out the door.


	6. Chapter 6

Tino seemed pretty excited over something so little as going swimming. Berwald just assumed he'd been wanting to do it for awhile.. or something along the lines of that. He really was wondering where the Finn had gotten the strength to pull him the entire way to the creek.

They soon arrived on the bank - their feet squelching loudly and making funny noises in the stretch of wet sand, causing Tino to giggle. He yanked off his shirt in a flash, and suddenly appeared at the edge of the water. He beckoned eagerly to Berwald, "Hurry up, slowpoke!" the prince laughed.

The Swede forced himself to tear his gaze off of the expanse of smooth, milky skin. Tino's torso has obviously never felt the touch of sunlight's hands. It seemed it was just more proof that he was perfect anyways. Berwald's lips twitched into a small smile, "S'rry." he grunted before slipping his sky blue shirt over his head. He went to go set it beside Tino's discarded one that now lay in a heap. His large hands quickly went to folding it - he didn't want it to get all sandy or dirty.

Tino's violet eyes instantly roamed the other's body greedily, taking him in. Berwald's stomach was a rich tan color, the muscle and sinew under his skin chiseled perfectly. As his gaze slid up his knight's torso, he found that thick, white bandages were wound protectively over his heart. The prince wanted to groan in exasperation but he bit back the sound that nearly spilled from his lips. Though.. he felt a small twinge of concern. Had Berwald been hurt recently? He wouldn't put it past Mathias to hurt someone while he was drunk. It _was _kind of selfish of him to get at the lion for wearing _bandages_. Maybe he was too pampered.

"Are you hurt..?" the Finn questioned softly, his finger rising to point at the white fabric.

Berwald blinked and slowly shook his head as he removed his glasses and set them on top of their clothes. "S'an old wound. Jus' hurts s'metimes." he shrugged his broad shoulders, signifying to Tino that he didn't think it was a big deal. That he shouldn't worry about him.

"Can I see?" Tino blurted out eagerly before clamping his hands over his mouth. "S-sorry... I mean, you don't have to... I just wanted to know how bad it-"

Berwald interrupted him with a slightly amused expression. "S'lright. Y'aren't th' first t' ask." In his village people, and especially children who had heard the stories from their parents, would ask if they could see the scar.

Tino blinked in surprise, "Really?" He guessed he was being kind of stupid. Assuming that he was the only one who knew about the story of the Huldra. He watched Berwald fumble awkwardly with the wrappings for a moment before quickly piping up, "Here, I'll help..!" His slim fingers got the job done much easier and the knight smiled. He didn't know if he had ever seen the little prince so excited over something.

"Here." Tino handed the bundle of bandages and quickly turned the Swede around. His amethyst eyes widened instantly and he hesitantly ghosted his fingers over the pale white, raised, jagged wound that held a stark contrast to the sun-kissed skin.

_Aah.. so it is true..! I can't believe it! It's like I'm in my own personal little fairytale! And I thought being a prince was boring..._

"So.. how did this happen?" Tino asked in a soft voice, his fingers still brushing gently over it. He looked up to watch Berwald's expression, "Does it hurt?"

He merely shrugged again, "'S a long story..." he paused, thinking about how he should answer the Finn's next question. There was no point in making him worry. "A little. But s'fine."

_What does he mean 'it's a long story'? _Tino mocked the knight's voice in his mind. _The silly lion is too modest for his own good! Doesn't he realize that he's practically.. famous?_

Berwald surveyed Tino as he sorted out this mental conflict. The giant finally interrupted the silence, ".. Did 'y still w'nt t'swim..?"

"Huh?" the prince blinked, having completely forgotten. "Oh, sure..!" he laughed, removing his fingers reluctantly from his skin.

"It sh'ld be sh'llow 'nough that y'can stand." Berwald began to wade into the sluggish moving water. The Finn followed with hesitation. This whole thing might've just been a ruse to see the lion shirtle- I mean, his scar. But when the cold water came into contact with his skin he let out a small squeal and immediately clung to the thing that was nearest by. "It's cold..!" he exclaimed, stating the obvious.

Tino really couldn't swim.

Berwald let out a rumbling chuckle when he felt the Finn's slim limbs wrap themselves around his neck. "M'here.. don't worry.." He wasn't about to let Tino drown or anything. What kind of a knight would he be then? He continued wading forward until they were around the middle of the creek - where it was deepest. Tino still clung to his back with a vice grip. "Don't let me fall..!" he fretted.

After several tries that often ended up with Berwald getting poked in the eye, bumped in the nose, or kicked where the sun don't shine, he decided to give up. Tino had barely gotten wet, while he on the other hand, was soaked. He set the prince down carefully down on the sand with an amused smile. "I d'nt think yer gonna be able t' learn how t' swim."

"But I tried so hard!" the Finn insisted, blinking up at him in indignation. "What if someone throws me in the ocean someday? I'll just drown!"

".. 'll be there 't save y'." the Swede said, putting his glasses back on. "'nd we can 'lways try again l'ter."

"Okay.. you promise?" Tino looked up at him with the cutest expression he could muster.

Berwald blinked in surprise, a pink blush settling onto his cheeks. He nodded.

"Let's go back into the castle then..! It's freezing!"

The knight slipped his shirt back on, "Yeah." Without warning he pulled Tino up and onto his back, causing the Finn to gasp. "What are you doing, Berwald..?" he questioned, wrapping his arms around the neck to avoid falling off. Did Berwald _always _feel this tall? Maybe he really was a giant.

"We're goin' inside, T'no." he laughed softly before breaking off in a run towards the castle.

The Finn laughed as the wind ruffled his blonde hair, and he placed his chin on top of Berwald's head. "Aah..! Why are we going so fast?" he questioned, still giggling.

"Y'said y'were cold.. right?" Berwald glanced over his shoulder at him, smiling.

"Oh.. right." Tino laughed again and tightened his hold around the Swede's neck. "Let's hurry, then!"


	7. Chapter 7

Several weeks passed after Berwald had come to stay at the castle. And Tino had decided these were some of the best moments of his life. The Swede never said much about himself, but the Finn thought he was gradually getting him to open up more.

_He.. he's just like an onion!_ It dawned upon the prince early one morning, when the sun was just beginning to come up. That big old giant had many layers to him you just had to peel, push, and worm your way through before you got to the heart of him. .. Though, Tino couldn't think of a time Berwald made him cry.. so maybe he wasn't much like an onion. A clam? No, no.. that reminded him too much of water.

Berwald was slumbering beside him in the large bed, somehow managing to actually take up half of it. He had spent several nights in the high-backed wooden chair, and Tino always felt extremely guilty. S-so he offered him half the bed..! No big deal, right? It wasn't like he took up much room anyways..

Suddenly, a soft knock echoed from the wooden door. Tino blinked in surprise and sat up carefully, not wanting to wake the snoring giant beside him up just yet. He tiptoed to the door, careful not to put to much weight on the creaky spots of the wood flooring. Those noises often made Berwald jump and think some intruder had broken in. The poor man.

"Who is it..?" the prince whispered softly through the crack of the door.

"Mathias!" the voice called loudly, despite it being very early. Tino winced and quickly retreated several inches, his eardrums pounding.

"What do you want?"

"There's someone here to see you.. he looks pretty important, but.." the Dane's voice lowered to a whisper. "He's really small.."

"I heard that!" a second voice called, much higher than Mathias'.

"Oops.."

A small smile curled upwards on Tino's lips as he cracked open the door. Sometimes Mathias was hopeless. "Yes?"

"This is um.. um…." the Dane scratched his head for a moment, obviously straining to remember.

"Emil." the man beside him answered, though while he was much shorter than Mathias he still managed to be taller than Tino. The most surprising thing about him was.. he had a head of hair that was shockingly white. Like snow! Tino wanted to touch it—

His thoughts were interrupted when Emil bowed deeply before straightening up. "I bring news from the King of Norway."

"H-huh..?" Tino's violet eyes blinked in surprise. His country had never had many relations with Norway, but they were still on relatively good terms. Thankfully. "What does he have to say to me of all people?"

"Your father has arranged a betrothal.." Emil continued in a bored voice, stifling a yawn.

All coherent thoughts stopped. Tino felt his jaw drop. B-but hey.. maybe he had just heard him incorrectly. Maybe he actually said _birthday_! His was coming up pretty soon after all. Okay, it was six months away. It's still possible though. When the prince first tried to form a sentence it came out as more of a squeak. He cleared his throat, ".. I think I heard you wrong.. w-what did you say?"

Emil snorted. The people he had to deal with, honestly.. "A _betrothal_. With Prince Sigurd Thomassen the Fourth."

"Wow Tino..!" Mathias voice cut in – far too obnoxiously loud for the moment. "You're getting married! Will I be invited?"

Emil shoved him, his cold eyes narrowing. "Would you let me /finish/?"

"Sorry.." the Dane smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head.

"As I was saying, it's been arranged that he stay here at the castle so you two can get acquainted."

Tino just stared, getting paler and paler by the moment. His mind was elsewhere, thinking of a moment with Berwald that had taken place a few days ago…

It was a sunny day, but not too hot – just enough that Berwald had gone without his armor for the day. There was a slight breeze, which ruffled the stems of the flowers and plants in the garden. Along with the Swede's hair which had gotten longer.

"You need a haircut.." Tino mused, reaching up to run his fingers through the light blonde locks. "You're looking more and more like a lion everyday!" he added with a laugh.

A slight blush crept across said lion's face and he kept his gaze fixed firmly onto the blades of grass swaying in the wind. "…"

"I could cut it, you know.. I do my own hair." Tino told him, leaning forward so he could keep watch of Berwald's expression. .. But the man's thoughts seemed elsewhere. ".. Berwald?"

The Swede seemingly hadn't been listening to him because he raised a question, "Do y'have 'nyone special to y' Tino..?" he asked in a soft rumble, allowing his icy eyes to look the Finn in the eyes.

"Special..? Well.. we're friends, aren't we?"

"Thas'.. not wh't I mean.."

"Then what?"

Berwald fell silent for a long moment, his gaze falling southward again. This time, it didn't rise again. "Someone.. y'love."

A blush fell quickly onto the prince's cheeks, he couldn't help it. "U-um.." he stammered, not sure how to answer.

"I… jus' w'nted to know." The Swede looked panicked when he saw Tino's expression and quickly took back his comment. "'m sorry.. 'll be quiet.." he said in a soft voice, his face falling.

"No, no..!" the Finn's eyes widened, he hadn't meant to come across like that. The question had merely caught him by surprise. "It's fine.. but um, no.. I don't." he offered a slight smile to reassure the man sitting beside him. "But I'm hoping maybe someday I'll find somebody."

Berwald nodded, looking mildly embarrassed as he looked back at his knees.

".. What about you?"

"… … Me?"

"Yes, you." Tino laughed. "I'm sure _all_ the ladies in Sweden wanted a bit of you!" though, his smile grew a bit sad. Something twanged painfully inside him when he thought of Berwald with someone else.. he didn't like the feeling.

The Swede shook his head and shrugged his muscular shoulders, ".. No." There was another long pause as his lips fumbled with another sentence. "I.. I dn't think I 'ver will.." he admitted, now glancing up at the flowers – anywhere but at Tino.

"_What_?" the prince sounded overly shocked and he quickly tried to smooth his ruffled feathers. "I mean.. how could you think that? I'm sure plenty of people like you.." _Including me.._

Berwald shook his head. ".. Maybe. I'unno. People usually l'k sc'red.."

"They're probably just.. in awe! Yeah, cause you're so awesome!"

The knight cracked a small smile, "'m not interested in them.."

"Why… why not?"

"I think 'm waitin' fer someone else.." he said softly, adjusting his glasses.

".. Oh." Tino blinked, feeling slightly disappointed. .. Who was Berwald waiting for? Someone better than him, probably. But.. just maybe he could prove that he was alright.


	8. Chapter 8

"Presenting Sigurd Thomassen the fourth..!" the voice brought Tino surging back to the present, albeit slightly disappointed.

A thin, lean blonde who was slightly taller than the Finn appeared, looking completely emotionless. His blonde hair was lighter than Berwald's and pinned to the side with a white cross clip. His gray eyes surveyed Tino, nearly narrowed into slits. His expression made it seem like he hated the world and everything in it. .. The Finn had a feeling he wouldn't get along well with Sigurd, even if he tried.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mathias' jaw drop. Tino blinked and rested his gaze on the Dane. What did he find so surprising? Sigurd seemed to merely fit the cookie cutter that molded most princes – boring and stuffy. Perhaps he was in shock seeing how he could hate someone so much. That seemed reasonable.

_But.. I shouldn't think that.._ Tino sighed to himself before stretching to poke Mathias in the side. The Dane jumped in surprise, his mouth managing to close itself. ".. What is it, Finny..?" he whispered, crouching down slightly – but his blue eyes were still locked on the Norwegian prince in front of him.

Grabbing a handful of his shirt, Tino tugged him down southward so he could whisper in his ear properly. ".. Why are you staring at him? I wouldn't, if I were you.."

"Huh?" Mathias said loudly, now tearing his gaze away and looking at Tino. He blinked, quickly correcting himself and whispered back, "Sorry.. what do you mean?"

"You were _staring_ at Sigurd." The Finn snorted softly.

"Ahaha.. I was?" Mathias pretended to look genuinely surprised, his mouth stretching into a nervous grin – a stark difference from his usual ones. "Guess I've just never seen a Norwegian before…"

"You h—?" Tino's voice was cut off.

"Are you going to keep us waiting much longer?" Sigurd sneered, the first words of their meeting pouring from his mouth.

"S-sorry..!" the Finn stammered nervously, folding his arms across his chest in an attempt to protect himself.

"Honestly, Emil.." the Norwegian prince sighed loudly and turned to the snowy-haired man. "Couldn't we have found a kingdom that was at least somewhat literate?"

Tino outright gaped, his violet eyes wide. He.. had never been insulted so straight out, being a prince and all. It felt like a slap in the face, especially since it was directed towards not only him but his people too. "H-hey..! Don't say that.."

"Especially _him_.." Sigurd continued in a drawl, gesturing towards Mathias. "Does he have no more brains than an infant? I can't see how you trust war affairs with someone so.. _stupid_." Tino had never remembered seeing Mathias so much as frown, but now.. the tall Dane resembled a kicked puppy, seeming to almost shrink slightly where he stood.

Mathias seemed to gulp nervously before gathering the courage to speak up, "H-hey.. but um, I've never lost a battle.." a small smile broke upon his lips, an attempt at some sort of offering towards Sigurd.

"… Did I ask _you_?"

"No… sorry.."

".. T'no?" The Finn shrieked and nearly jumped two feet in the air when a rumbling voice suddenly sounded behind him. He quickly whipped around, "O-oh.. it's you, Berwald.."

Seeing both Mathias and Tino's expression, it was easy to assume things weren't going well. Despite looking sleep-ruffled, the Swede managed to look intimidating anyways – eyes narrowed behind the frame of his glasses. While the Dane annoyed him to no end, he was still genuinely surprised to see someone so stubborn and obnoxious look so… shameful.

"And who is _this_?" Sigurd questioned, his gray eyes growing colder as he tapped his foot lightly on the ground.

"U-um.. this is Berwald..!" Tino chirped nervously, having taken the knight's hand out of instinct.

The Norwegian was silent for a long moment, his gaze flicking back and forth between the pair. Suddenly, his judgment ruled down upon them both, "I didn't expect you to be hiring concubines such as him, _Prince _Tino."

"I-I.. I.." the Finn's stammerings trickled endlessly out of his mouth as his cheeks a flushed a dark, dark red. He wasn't able to form a literate answer, being merely too shocked and embarrassed to reply.

_Why can't I answer him..? He's just too.. too scary! I can't imagine being married to someone like him. I'd die of a heart attack._ Tino mourned mentally, his gaze traveling to Berwald and giving him a desperate expression. One word shone through clearly to the lion. _Help_.

The knight's blue eyes grew cold as he turned his orbs onto Emil and Sigurd. Letting go of Tino's hand, her folded his arms tightly across his chest – the thick muscle flexing beneath his forearms easily seen by the normal eye. ".. 'm his knight." He took a step forward so he was standing protectively in front of Tino, instead of behind him.

Though Sigurd's expression remained unchanged, you could see his eyes had grown uneasy as he turned to Emil and whispered something hurriedly in his ear. He nodded solemnly in agreement before trying to look as regal as he could, "Prince Sigurd had an arranged meeting with the king. We'll be leaving now." He bowed almost mockingly as he left after Sigurd.

Tino was almost positive they didn't have any such 'meeting' but he was extremely grateful that they had fled. He glanced up at Berwald, a wide smile stretching across his face. "Thank you.."

Berwald blinked and looked down at Tino, a small smile cracking through the hard mask he previously wore. "S'what 'm s'posed to do.." he answered simply with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

Mathias stood there awkwardly for several moments, looking utterly lost.

".. Uh.. Mathias?" Tino stretched to look at him from around the Swede. "Are you okay?" he questioned, concern leaking into his voice.

"Huh..? Y-yeah, I'm fine.." he nodded slightly, twiddling his thumbs idly.

"You're not stupid, you know.. okay?"

"Yeah, um.. thanks. I'm gonna go now." The Dane said after a moment, his expression not brightening by much. He turned and nearly fled down the hallway back to his office.

_What's up with him..?_ Tino wondered curiously. He had never seen someone's words have so much lingering affect on Mathias. Not even the king's. Maybe he was sick..? That would make sense. .. But the Dane had never let being sick affect his mood once. Several months ago he had caught something but still managed to train with the rest of his soldiers, merely turning to the side and throwing up as he needed to. _I'll have to ask him later.._ the Finn decided after he had vanished.

"Who w's th't..?" Berwald questioned, putting a hand on Tino's shoulder comfortingly.

"Huh..?" the prince was about to spill out everything – how mean they had been, and the betrothal, and how they had mocked his kingdom.. but something inside told him he shouldn't worry Berwald with all of that. "O-oh, it's nothing.." he forced a reassuring smile.

"Y'sure?"

"Yeah.." Tino let a breath out, not realizing he had been holding one in. ".. Berwald?"

"Mm?"

"Could I have a hug?"

The Swede blinked, not sure he had heard right. A rosy tint had spread across his cheeks, "A wh't?"

"A hug.." Tino repeated bashfully.

"Y'don't have t'ask for that.." Berwald mumbled, pulling the Finn into his chest and enveloping him. With the comforting warmth that surrounded him, Tino was almost able to assure himself that everything would be alright.


	9. Chapter 9

_Seriously! What the hell is wrong with me? _Mathias found himself wide awake in the middle of the night, and nothing – no matter how or which way he tossed and turned – would help him achieve the only thing he wanted. _Sleep.._ Something he normally had no trouble at all, getting. Heck, part of him was tempted to see if he would sleep better in his office, considering he passed out all the time there.

Usually, he didn't think too deeply about anything. Excluding war affairs. It was easier that way, even if he was often scolded for it. But tonight, his mind strayed traitorously. Winding aimlessly and affectionately around a pair of sharp blue eyes and a scowl that never seemed to fade.

"Damn it.." he cursed, throwing his pillow over his face in an attempt to stifle the image that his brain clung to desperately, almost like a lifeline. … It didn't work.

_I don't even know a single stupid thing about him.. _he sighed loudly, fingernails digging deeply into the down on the goose feather pillow. Tension had struck and infected him like a plague ever since he looked at Prince Sigurd – and the strange thing was, he couldn't figure out why. _And besides.. it's obvious he hates me. Even though he hasn't taken any time at all to get to know me. Not like anyone does that anymore anyways. I'm just the soldier boy. Nothing else._

He laughed bitterly and forced his thoughts to fall silent as best he could – pinning them up into a makeshift pen inside his mind. The fences were thick and tall, or so he imagined they were. Whispers of Sigurd probed the cracks in the wood and slid through easily, but finally the droning drove him to fall into a restless sleep.

"... Mathias!" a voice suddenly shouted from the edge of the garden. The Dane hadn't remembered coming outside, or even waking up, but he didn't worry. It was too much work. Besides, the weather couldn't be more perfect. The sun lightly brushed its warmth and delicate rays over the plants, cooled by a slight breeze that caused the many different colored blossoms to bounce and sway. He was almost prepared to lay back down in the grass as the wind swept gently through his usually messy hair, almost comfortingly.

"Mathias!" the voice came again, louder this time. It wasn't terribly familiar, but it enticed him all the same. He slowly got to his feet and brushed the blades of grass off of his clothes.

_I must've fallen asleep out here... or gotten drunk. _He thought.

"Mathias..." the voice grew softer, the bare whisper being carried to him by the wind. It took on an almost seductive tone. Mathias hadn't realized, but he was running blindly forward, hoping desperately that he could find the voice's owner. He could practically feel himself get closer- actually _feel_ a deep, dull ache within his chest. If he didn't get there soon, he felt his heart would implode.

"... You came."

Mathias' head snapped up, his cobalt gaze coming to rest on possibly the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Was beautiful the right word? The man's light blonde hair seemed to shine, imitating a bright, golden halo. Eyes a deep, deep shining indigo with endless depths that Mathias could already imagine himself falling into – not that he'd mind. Pale, ivory skin that was silky smooth and held no imperfections whatsoever. A slim, delicate figure that rested amongst striking buds of roses and lilies – so fragrant he could smell their perfume from feet away.

The Dane suddenly felt extremely self-conscious. Like a tiny, squat black ant in the presence of a flaming monarch. All speech left him, all thoughts fled.

"Well?" Sigurd said impatiently after a moment, arching a slim, blonde eyebrow.

Mathias knew he was staring, but he just couldn't help himself. It was hopeless to try, and he just couldn't drink it in enough. If only he had beer that felt like this. Lost for words, he managed to nod shakily.

"Do you know why I brought you here?"

"..." Mathias opened his mouth to speak – but it felt odd, like his jaw was almost rusted shut. All that emerged was a hoarse croak. He flushed and quickly resorted to a shake of his head.

"I didn't really mean it when I said you were stupid."

".. You.. you didn't?" the Dane was so surprised, his voice must have been spooked back into him as well.

"... Yes." Sigurd replied coolly, but acted as if he didn't really care.

"So.. uh. If you don't mind me asking.." he swallowed nervously and rubbed the back of his head. "Why _did _you bring me here?"

"I'm not marrying Tino." Another straightforward answer that Mathias was not prepared for.

"What? But the kin-"

"I don't give a rat's ass about the king."

"... Oh. So what are you going to do about it then?"

"You're going to help me." the Norwegian shrugged his shoulders halfheartedly as if Mathias should've known what was expected of him in the first place.

"Me?"

"You."

"But what can I possibly-"

Sigurd cut across him sharply, "You'll see. I'll talk to you about it later."

".. Later? But I don't understand. Why can't you just tell me now?"

"Just trust me, Mathias." Sigurd's gaze was so intense, Mathias already found himself nodding – even if he didn't want to.

"Okay."  
The prince let out a long sigh, his lips curling downwards into a soft scowl. "I'm sure I could find somebody better, but for now, you're all I've got."

"Than- hey!" the Dane protested with a pout.

"Don't read into it too much. You'll just hurt yourself. I've got to go."

Mathias' brow furrowed in confusion and he glanced down at the grass, "Go? Go where?" But Sigurd was already gone.

He jolted awake with a sharp gasp, small beads of sweat dotting across his forehead. "A dream..?" he murmured to himself, swallowing thickly. His mouth felt parched and uncomfortably dry. It had all felt so completely real, especially Sigurd. Had it really happened? He slowly shook his head, dumbfounded. Although, something lingered deep inside his thoughts, nagging at him. Sigurd still needed his help. He was sure of it. None of his other dreams had ever felt so real. Mathias thought about telling Tino, but quickly changed his mind when a voice the resembled Sigurd's told him it would be much better to not worry the prince.


	10. Chapter 10

Tino yawned sleepily, moving to stretch out his cramped limbs. He shivered when his torso left the safety of the warm covers, part of him wanting to crawl right back into bed. But something was bothering him – something that wasn't exactly going away. One of his hands happened to brush the slumbering knight beside him and he quickly withdrew it with a tiny, nervous peep. The Finn's thoughts then traveled back to Mathias. He had seemed so flustered after meeting (and being insulted by ) Sigurd. Knowing him, it wouldn't be completely surprising if he went off to do something reckless afterwards. He'd probably better check on him...

"... Berwald?" he gently nudged the man's shoulder and waited. He observed with a slightly affectionate smile as the Swede let out a soft snore in response. Tino had to suppress a giggle. He poked him again, a bit more firmly. ".. Berwald!" he whispered.

This time, he got a response. Berwald's blue green eyes slowly flitted open, before attempting to focus on Tino – despite the lack of glasses. ".. Mm?" he finally said, voice heavy with sleep and blonde hair ruffled every which way.

"Morning!" Tino laughed cheerily, running a hand through his own wheat-colored locks and subconsciously hoping it didn't look nearly as awful as it felt. "Did you sleep well?

Berwald gradually nodded and moved to sit up, shifting the entire bed as he did so. "Yeah." he grunted, groping blindly for his glasses. "You?"

"Um... it was alright." Tino replied after a long pause – or at least, it felt long to him. Frankly, he hadn't slept terribly well at all. He was worried – more worried than he probably should have been. Any dreams he had were tormented by an eerily sneering Sigurd and his stupid, quiet, white-haired lackey. The Finn imagined that if he ever did get married to that abominable Norwegian, the two of them would never end up doing together. He couldn't imagine kissing Sigurd, let alone... having sex with him. Tino shuddered weakly at the thought.

"T'no.. are you 'kay?" Berwald watched him with a concerned expressions, lips turning into a soft frown.

"Huh..?" his violet eyes blinked in surprise. "Oh, uh.. yes! Definitely fine!" he assured with a shaky nod.

Berwald's brow was furrowed in slight confusion, but he gave a stiff nod in response. If Tino didn't want to tell him what was wrong, then it wasn't his place to pry – even if he was practically dying to know. It bothered him when he knew that the Finn was anything but happy. He felt as if he had done something personally wrong.

"Oh, right. I was going to go check on Mathias. See if he was okay after um, yesterday and everything."

The knight's frown deepened as he adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "By y'rself..?" he questioned.

"Yeah! I'll stay inside the castle, promise. If he's not inside, I'll come to get you first."

Berwald seemed to puzzle over this for a long moment before finally agreeing. "... B'safe."

"I will! You should go back to sleep, okay? You look really tired..." Tino told the Swede as he headed towards the bedroom door. Berwald had opened his mouth to protest, but the prince hurried out the door without another word.

Once in the hallway, Tino broke into a quick jog – his pattering footsteps echoing lightly through the wide stone hallway. He was slightly puzzled when he caught sight of a figure up above. A lanky, messy blonde-haired figure. The Prince would have expected Mathias to be cooped up deep inside his office with the way he had acted last night. Instead, the Dane was staring intently out one of the elaborate arched windows with an extremely thoughtful expression. ( which admittedly surprised Tino to no end. )

Mathias was so absorbed, in fact, he hadn't heard Tino's quick footsteps at all. The only indication that the Dane was still alive was the slight rise and fall of his chest. Worry pawed incessantly at Tino – a room just couldn't be quiet when Mathias was in it. He recalled one time when, early in the morning, there was so much noise coming down the stairs – bangs, clatterings, laughs – that Tino wondered who the hell had decided to throw a party at three in the morning. Upon investigating, he found that it was just a drunk Mathias trying to walk straight and utterly failing.

"Mathias...?" Tino finally spoke up cautiously, approaching the man at the window slowly.

Mathias showed no signs of recognition whatsoever, his blue eyes blank.

The Finn let out a soft sigh, beginning to think that Mathias was just messing with him. It hadn't been the first time, at least. Eventually, he resorted to giving the stubborn Dane a sharp pinch in the side.

Evidently, Mathias hadn't been kidding around because he let out an unmanly shriek and jumped a considerably impressive distance into the air. "What the hell was that for...?" he complained, now rubbing the offended stinging in his side.

"What were you staring at?" Tino questioned curiously, ignoring his outburst as he moved to peer out the open window.

"Ahaha..." Mathias laughed nervously and quickly slid right into his line of vision, blocking the window completely. "Uh... nothing. I was definitely looking at nothing, Finny."

_… Finny? _"You don't seem like it..." Tino narrowed his violet eyes suspiciously, lips pursed as he surveyed the man who now resembled a deer in the headlights. "If it's really nothing.. then why can't I see?"

Mathias was visibly struggling to come up with an excuse. "Um.. the sun- yeah, that's it! The sun." he grinned and nodded, feeling successful.

"The _sun?_"

"Yeah. You're so pale, you know. Those harsh rays could fry you up like a strip of bacon."

"Right, um... okay. But a quick peek wouldn't hurt too much, right?"

"Not right. Better safe than sorry."

"You're silly, Mathias." he paused, "But do you want to know something...?"

"What?"

"Close your eyes, it's a surprise."

"A surprise, really?" he exclaimed excitedly.

"Yes. Are they closed?"

"Yeah!" Mathias quickly slapped his hands over his eyes.

Tino suppressed a giggle and crept silently around the Dane to get a proper view out the window. What he saw... was a Prince Sigurd sitting by himself on one of the carved wooden benches in the garden. He held a thick, hard-back novel and seemed to be reading intently.

"Can I open my eyes yet, Tino?"

"Huh? Oh, sure."

"Where'd you g- hey!" Mathias looked and sounded hurt. "You lied to me. There wasn't a surprise at all..." he frowned and turned back to the window.

Okay, Tino admittedly felt a little guilty. Mathias got this precious puppy dog look on his face whenever he was sad that swayed even the mightiest of men. "Okay, there's still a surprise.." he said carefully. "But first, I want you to tell me something."

He sighed but nodded reluctantly, "Alright. What is it, babycakes?"

"Babycakes..?" Tino repeated incredulously, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Anyways, um.. why are you staring at Sigurd out there?"

Mathias paled, "Uh.. who? Who's Sigurd?"

"Don't play stupid!" he punched the Dane's shoulder gently, a small snort escaping his lips. "You were there when he introduced himself. And so was I.."

"Oh, right."

"So why were you staring at him?"

The soldier rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, mouth fumbling. "No reason, really.."

Then it clicked in Tino's brain, all of a sudden. All of the feelings he felt towards Berwald – the painful flutterings in his chest, the nervousness, never wanting to be away from that one person... was Mathias feeling that way about Sigurd? Surely he couldn't possibly be. "Mathias? Don't tell me you _like_ Sigurd."

"Um..."


	11. Chapter 11

**Review people. Leave me reviews because I love you. Also, this is a slightly longer chapter so – cheers.**

"Well..?" Tino raised an eyebrow after what seemed like an eternity.

"I-I, uh..." Mathias' normally lightly tanned skin was growing paler as he stammered. He was never a good liar when he wanted to be. Sometimes he reminded Tino of a little kid, except for the fact that he had probably killed over fifty men.

The Finn's face grew softer and he forced a small smile onto his lips, despite how much he _really _didn't feel in the mood at the moment. "You can tell me, Mathias. I'll keep it a secret, okay?"

"You... you really promise you won't tell anyone? Not even Berwald?" he replied slowly, glancing up timidly.

"Not even Berwald. Pinky promise." Tino held out his slender finger and waited expectantly.

Mathias eyed the thing as if it was a venomous snake, prepared to lash out and sink its deadly, corrupting fangs into his flesh at any moment. Hesitantly, he wound his pinky around Tino's and sighed. "... Okay, I'll tell you."

"See? It's not so bad, is it?"

"The truth is, I guess... there's just something really different about him. Something I've never ever seen before. He makes me feel like a horse's ass, and for some reason.. it makes me want to get to know him that much more." Mathias swallowed thickly and fell silent, flicking his cobalt gaze nervously at Tino.

"Mathias, I... I'm not sure this will turn out exactly how you want it to." Tino said carefully, his violet eyes dimming slightly. "We're.. betrothed. It's an arranged marriage, but still."

The Dane let out an exasperated growl, his frame growing rigid as he turned back to the window. "I _know_ that." he said through his teeth before turning back to Tino, still tense as ever. "Why, though? Do you _want_ to be married to him?" Mathias accused suddenly, narrowing his eyes.

"No, no...! It's not like that at all!" Tino squeaked out timidly, holding his small hands up in defense – as if they'd actually be able to protect him.

"Then why don't I have a chance, huh?"

"I'm just saying.." the Prince's voice was barely above a whisper as he paused. "The king just usually gets what he wants."

"Yeah, and you're his s_on_. Tell him what _you _want, Tino. Do you ever stand up for yourself?"

"I'm not sure if that's the best idea in this case, Mathias. I have to do what's better for the country, not necessarily me."

Mathias' lip curled into a sneer, somewhat resembling Sigurd's. "To hell with the stupid country! And the king. Are you seriously telling me that you're going to give up that easily without even _trying_?"

The Prince was growing uneasy as he shifted his weight from foot to foot, wondering how to go about this. He fell silent and looked down at his hands, sure that whatever answer he had, Mathias wouldn't like it. Tino hadn't ever seen him this worked up. The sneer, however, he had seen once before. It was the look Mathias put on right before he killed a man.

"So that's it. You're just giving up. Have you ever thought that maybe Sigurd doesn't want to marry you either?"

"No, I-"

"That for once in your stupid little pampered life that someone just doesn't want _you_?" the Dane's voice was growing dangerously loud, bouncing eerily around the stone corridor.

Tino shrunk, appearing even smaller than he actually was. He risked taking a small step backwards, "M-Mathias..." He was beginning to get scared, now. Considering running down the hall and back to his room, where it was safe. Where Berwald was. But could he make it in time..?

"No, listen to _me. _You get every single little thing you want when you want it. And now- now you're telling me that this time, you aren't even going to try?"

The Finn opened his mouth to utter a hesitant protest, but all speech left him when he saw what happened next. Berwald's fist had connected with Mathias' stomach, so hard that Tino could've sworn the Dane's feet left the ground for a mere moment. What was even scarier, was the look in Berwald's eyes as he observed Mathias cough harshly on his knees. His blue eyes displayed pure and utter disgust.

It took several moments for Mathias to collect himself, during which Tino was simply stunned into complete silence. He couldn't even move if he wanted to as he watched the soldier get to his feet and glare at Berwald murderously. Mathias' hands clenched instinctively clenched into white-knuckle fists, his gaze sharpening and growing more predatory. In a flash that left Tino breathless, he had smashed his knuckles into the Swede's nose with a sickening crunch that turned the Finn's stomach for the worse. Crimson dripped from Mathias' fist when he withdrew, but he had no time to react before Berwald had his wrist in a steel, circulation-cutting vice grip. He flung the Dane with nearly inhuman strength, bringing him smashing into the rock wall. A loud crack was emitted as his head collided with the wall. Then he crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

Tino's speech was still utterly gone, and he thought he could feel himself trembling. His lavender eyes slowly slid upwards to look at Berwald and he let out a sharp gasp. "B-Berwald.." he stammered, voice cracking a bit as he hesitantly slid his hand into the knight's. "You're bleeding..."

Berwald shook his head slowly. "S'kay.." he lied easily, frowning a bit. "Did he hurt y'?"

"No.. you didn't need to knock him unconscious, did you?" the Finn's gaze grew sad as he eyed the Swede, hand still quivering lightly. "He didn't mean all of that, I'm sure of it.." Or at least, he hoped he hadn't.

"'M s'posed t' protect y', T'no." he grunted, face falling slightly as he tried to stem the flow of blood with his wrist.

"C'mon... we need to fix your nose, okay?" Tino tugged lightly on his hand, feeling Berwald give a soft squeeze in response. "I'll have someone come help Mathias out in a bit, but he's been through worse, I think.."

The Swede allowed Tino to lead him back down the hall, without a second glance at the heap that was Mathias. One thing he knew for sure – he better never treat the prince like that again.

Mathias' head was pounding. It felt like he had a massive percussion band cooped up in his head, marching and banging. What had happened, anyways? He remembered... he remembered talking to Tino and getting really angry over _something_. He shifted slightly, the cool fabric of the pillow easing his headache just slightly. Then, the Dane froze.

_Hold on.. where the hell am I? I seriously don't remember going to bed._

He slowly cracked open an eye and glanced sneakily around the room. He was in one of the fancier guest rooms, meant only for important company. He had gotten caught napping in one of these rooms before, and had gotten a lecture about how terrible and awful it was that he had been sleeping there. (How was he supposed to know that some puffed-up, whiny princess was staying with them?) He hadn't been planning on having a repeat of that – especially when Sigurd was staying at the castle. And especially because he didn't want to embarrass himself even further in front of the Norwegian prince.

Mathias sat up quickly, swearing under his breath when his head throbbed in protest of the quick movement. As comfortable as the bed was, he should probably get out of here. He crept quietly over to the door and began to slowly turn the knob so it wouldn't crak.

"And just where do you think you're going?"

The Dane jumped and whipped around, pressing a hand to the back of his skull as he winced slightly. His eyes widened in shock when he saw none other than Sigurd sitting in one of the high backed chairs, a book resting in his lap. "I didn't say you could leave yet, Mathias."

"So you said I could come in then?" he questioned, sounding puzzled.

Sigurd let an impatient sigh escape his lips. "Do you know how heavy you are?"

"... What?"

"I had to drag your fat ass all the way in here. It took me half an hour."

Mathias pouted slightly, dropping his hand from the knob. ".. My ass isn't that big." He turned and tried to look at it, causing the Norwegian to snicker.

"Anyways.." the prince's face returned to the expressionless mask. "I told you I had to talk to you."

"Wait, wait.. hold up." the Dane raised his hands, looking completely confused. "I've got a few questions first.

".. Alright. What?"

"So is this another dream? Or have I just been dreaming this whole entire time, cause if so.. that's a _really_ lon-"

"No, Mathias. This is real life."

"Phew..."

"Basically, I think Tino is a stupid, idiotic, ugly, disgusting, loathsome, unintell-"

"I get the idea. But.. he can be nice if you get to know him." Mathias let out a soft sigh, crossing his arms. "Also, I'm supposed to like him. I work for him."

"You're going to have to stop thinking like that for just a moment."

"Alright.. why?" the Dane tilted his head curiously.

Sigurd set the book aside and rose to his feet, though Mathias was still a good half a foot taller. "I want him dead."


	12. Chapter 12

"Berwald! Stop moving for just a second, okay..? I'm almost done." Tino protested, a hint of sternness creeping into his tone.

"..." the Swede recoiled again when the damp rag lightly touched his nose. The skin was purple and discolored, and just thinking about it made it hurt.

The Finn frowned slightly, "He really hit you, didn't he?"

Berwald shrugged his shoulders lightly and shook his head in response. Even if that _were_ true, it wasn't his place to complain. Knights were supposed to be stoic and strong, a force that could never be quenched. It wouldn't be right for him to admit that it hurt. "S'fine."

"No, Berwald. It's not fine. You're still bleeding." Tino crouched closer next to the man on the bed, leaning forward to survey the damage. What he didn't realize, however, that his face was just a mere two inches from Berwald's.

The knight blinked in surprise, frantically hoping that his cheeks wouldn't betray him – but, perhaps.. it would just blend in with the bruising anyways. Or so he hoped.

"Are you sure he just hit your nose..?" the prince tilted his head and pursed his lips, wiping away more blood as it continued to drip. The man's cheeks looked pink, almost as if they had been slapped. He was sure that Mathias hadn't hit him more than once.

Berwald mouth slackened after he opened it to speak and he felt the blush in his cheeks deepen. For all the blood that was coming out of him, he wondered how in the world he had enough left to _blush. _Tino's lips just looked so delicate and pink...

"Berwald..?" Tino looked puzzled as he set the cloth aside, seeing as the knight had suddenly grown completely silent. "Are you alright?" He seemed to grow even more worried when Berwald wasn't able to reply. "Maybe you should lay d-"

The Finn was silenced by Berwald's lips connecting firmly to his own.

What was a kiss supposed to feel like? Tino had given numerous others, but none seemed to have the same meaning. The same intentions. It sent feathery soft tingles down his spine, while on the other hand, his stomach churned nervously. His violet eyes, previously having been widened in shock, fluttered shut.

…

…

But.. but what about the betrothal? He shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't be kissing anybody. Move. Move.. why wasn't he moving? The fluttering feeling gradually turned into cold daggers of ice that corrupted the warm waves he felt with a swipe of their wicked blades. He shivered and quickly broke away from Berwald, looking down ashamedly before he could meet those blue green eyes and see the emotions that they held in their depths.

The knight blinked and slowly nodded, accepting the truth – no matter how much it tore him up inside. Rejection's claws dug deep into his heart, forming wounds that the naked eye couldn't see. He admitted that it probably wasn't the best idea to go ahead and kiss him before telling him before. But.. one thing came from it. He got to kiss Tino once. Just once before being turned away – and that was all that mattered. Berwald picked up the rag, feeling utterly numb. He got to his feet and headed briskly for the door, before the Prince could even move to stop him.

"You want him _what?_" Mathias gaped outright at Sigurd, shocked. All those smiles and hugs Tino had given him.. gone? Did he really want that? The Finn was kind of his only friend...

"Dead, obviously. Isn't that what I told you?" Sigurd deadpanned and snorted.

"Yeah, I.. but what am I supposed to do about it? Don't you have assassins in your country or something?" he paused, looking panicked for a moment. "Wait, I'm not saying you can kill him just yet!"

"Then just what are you saying, Mathias? Are you going to help me or not?" the Norwegian narrowed his eyes slightly and crossed his arms.

"Ahaha.. just give me a second, okay? I still really want to help you. This is just.. a lot. Isn't there some other way you can get out of this without killing him?" he fidgeted somewhat and took a seat on the end of the bed, needing something to do. Anything.

"What are you proposing then? I'm certainly not going to kill myself."

"No, no. I wasn't asking that either. I don't want you to die."

Sigurd let out a heavy sigh and surveyed the Dane carefully, "You barely know me. How do you know that?"

"I know. But I want to know you." he admitted, immediately wished he could have reeled it back in once he spoke. Being too forward too quickly.. was often one of his quirks.

"... What do you want to know, exactly?" Sigurd's voice had lost just a minuscule amount of its bitter chill.

"Everything. Anything you want to tell me." Mathias risked setting his eyes back on the prince, his chest picking back up the nervous twitchy feeling.

"That's too vague."

"Alright... your favorite color, then?"

Sigurd scowled and rolled his eyes, "You're seriously asking just that?"

"Yeah.. well, I mean – why not? Something wrong with colors?"

".. No." he shook his head slightly. "Purple."

"What?"

"My favorite color is purple."

The Dane looked him up and down for a moment before nodding decisively, "Purple would look good on you."

Sigurd seemed to ignore that last comment, his cheeks gathering a very vague hint of being pink, "What about you?"

"Me? I like red and black." Mathias grinned crookedly.

The Norwegian nodded stoically, and sunk back into his lavish chair.

"So it must be pretty nice being, a prince right?"

Sigurd didn't even react, not batting a single eyelash. He was quiet for so long, that Mathias was wondering if something was wrong with him. Maybe he had hearing problems? But finally, he spoke. ".. It's not what everyone thinks, Mathias."

"Oh. But your mom and dad are like, king and queen. You must get everything you want, right?"

The prince shrugged his shoulders airily, expression growing slightly tired and resigned. "It's not enough."

"What do you mean by that?" the Dane studied him closely, taking in every minute detail of his face. His emotions. His eyes. Oh, those eyes.. he figured he might as well take this chance to look at them, seeing as the Norwegian was showing more of himself than he usually did.

Sigurd reverted back into being the bland, boring, unyielding brick wall. He refused to say anything more about it. Mathias eventually decided to change the subject. He was smart enough to realize when somebody didn't want to be pushed. And besides, the Prince's breaking point didn't seem anywhere in sight. "Well.. it must be nice having parents, right?"

Sigurd let out another of his abrasive snorts, "What? Don't you have them too?"

"Yeah. I did."

"Did?"

"Did."

Mathias seemed to have perked Sigurd's curiosity, for the Norwegian pressed more firmly. "So.. what happened to them, then?"

"They died when I was five." the soldier shrugged his shoulders. "It's not a big deal, if you're thinking anything like that. I've raised myself without them ever since."

So perhaps that was the reason Mathias seemed so utterly immature and.. obnoxious. He just hadn't had a parental figure or anyone to look up to whatsoever. "How did they die?" he questioned flatly, looking at Mathias with his icy depths.

"Are.. are you sure you want to know? I don't want to bug you.."

"I asked, Mathias. That means I want to know.

"Alright, well.. soldiers stormed our house. They were selfish, because.. everyone knows that if you have a weapon and armor, you pretty much get whatever you want." Mathias' usual cheerful air seemed to gradually collapse – like a stage curtain being dropped. "They didn't care that we were kids. That we were a family and poor as it was. They ripped our house to pieces, stealing everything they found that they wanted. Dad wasn't home. He traveled to neighboring towns a lot and left us at home when he went. Sometimes he was gone for weeks."

He paused, swallowing slowly. His voice cracked unevenly when he added, "They raped my mom, before they killed her. I remember being so angry. I wanted to do something, _anything_.." Mathias clenched and unclenched his hands tensely. "But I was only five. What could I do? I hid like a stupid little coward. That's why I became a soldier, you know. So I could avenge my mom. Kill all the soldiers who tore apart my life. I don't even know what happened to my dad. He never came home.. I waited..." he trailed off, feeling his eyes beginning to moisten. Crying in front of Sigurd definitely wasn't manly at all.

"... I'm sorry." Sigurd stared blankly, but true concern lurked in the deep inner workings of his icy gaze.

"I still haven't found the men. I don't even know where to start looking." he let out an exasperated sigh and looked up at the ceiling. "Ugh."

Before Mathias knew what was going on, he felt slim arms giving him a loose, and albeit awkward, hug. Still, it was perfect enough.


	13. Chapter 13

Tino felt sick. His stomach felt like a boat in rough waters, churning dangerously as spray and cruel waves shoved it every which way. His mind, however, was experiencing something completely different. It was conflicting guiltily, two different sides both wanting to be heard. Both wanting their ideas to be acted upon.

_Go after Berwald! Could you really just crush the poor man's life like that? Look at everything he's done for you! _This voice was insistent and sounded almost like it was sobbing and heartbroken.

_ No, no.. don't listen to them! You're engaged, Tino. You can't be going around kissing whoever you want! _This one a shrill, stern scolding – reminding Tino of his mother.

The Finn begged them to stop, pressing his pillow firmly over his ears remorsefully. It had been hours, and Berwald hadn't come back. Would he.. would he really just leave without any warning like that? He had promised Tino that he'd be there to save him, always. Did that not apply anymore?

The thing that hounded at the prince the least, was his real feelings. They were timid as they nuzzled at him gently, speaking much softer than the other voices. They settled like whispers into his closed ears._ You love him._

_No, no.. I definitely don't. _Tino protested weakly in response, desperately wanting it to be true.

_You're lying to yourself. _

_ Me? I wouldn't do that.._

_ Then how is it that you're doing it right now?_

Tino fell silent, not knowing what else to say. Frankly, the little voice had a point. A good one at that, as much as he didn't want to admit it. Slowly, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and gathered his thoughts as best he could – forcing the mismatched puzzle pieces to work together. Worry for the knight was growing deeper, burrowing into his utter being like a persistent worm. He knew Berwald could take care of himself, but.. that wasn't what he was specifically worried about.

He didn't want to be abandoned. Again.

The Finn drew one of his lighter blankets around himself as he headed towards the door, shivering lightly as he felt the chill of the hallway coming in. Stones and rock could provide him no comfort or warmth. They just sat there mockingly. He padded down the hallway, blanket trailing idly on the ground. "Berwald..?" he winced at his own voice. It sounded like some little kid's, who had gotten lost and was nearly hysterical.

But.. but he wasn't crying, was he? His fingertips brushed lightly over his cheeks, strangely enough, they were dry. "Berwald!" he called again, louder. His voice echoed eerily off of the walls and he quickened his pace – not wanting to be alone in the halls for too long when they were nearly pitch black, except for the light of the moon trickling through the windows.

Outside was still. Too still, Berwald decided. He was sitting on the grassy hill that Tino had once sat with him on. It looked over the garden, and usually helped calm the Sweden down. But the night was too eerily still, the usual gentle breeze having completely vanished. His nose had finally stopped bleeding, but he knew he must've looked terrible. His hands were caked in dried crimson from trying to stop the flow. Though, it wasn't exactly like he had to try to look good for Tino anymore. That train had completely derailed.

…

Hold on. Had someone just called his name, right now? Berwald could've sworn... he shrugged it off, blaming his imagination. He had conquered all these amazing feats, but couldn't even come close to what he wanted to do most.

There the voice was again, a little bit louder. The Swede couldn't tell exactly where it was coming from, but he knew whose voice that was.

Tino's.

Which further reinforced the idea of it just being his imagination. He slipped his glasses off and set them aside on the grass, letting his eyes slide shut. He was tired. Tired of having to always be strong. He didn't see how people could call him a savior. He couldn't even save himself.

…

…

Several minutes passed before Berwald felt lithe arms wrapping themselves snuggly around his neck. For a split second, he panicked, thinking the worst. That Mathias had probably come back for revenge.. or something. But the arms weren't tightening to the point where he couldn't breathe.. they didn't seem.. strong enough. They were gentle, as if they were content with just staying how they were.

He slowly turned to look over his shoulder, and saw a head of straw blonde hair buried into his shoulder. ".. T'no?" he questioned openly, mainly to himself.

In response, the Finn's grip grew and he thought he could hear a murmured, "I'm sorry."

"Y'.. y'r sorry?" Berwald sounded confused. He wanted to see Tino's face, that usually gave away what it was thinking far too easily. But the Finn didn't move except for nodding meekly into the knight's shoulder.

"F'r what?" he asked next, brows drawing together slightly in confusion. "I.. 'm the one who sh'ld be s'ry."

"_You_?" Tino sounded flabbergasted as he head shot up, frowning. "What did _you_ do?"

"'verythin.." Now, Berwald looked embarrassed and settled his blue gaze onto the grass. ".. I kissed y'."

"You're.. really saying sorry for that? I've been looking for you for _ages_, Berwald. If I was really mad, would I be doing that..?" he spoke somewhat timidly, not wanting too much of his emotions to escape into his voice as they often did.

The Swede fell silent, not sure of what to say. Or even what to think. People had always confused him. Why did they have to be so complicated? Was Tino just looking for him because he had to, or..

".. Berwald, look at me." Tino said softly, breaking the silence.

Berwald slowly shook his head stubbornly, still keeping up the facade of being extremely interested in the grass.

"Look at me, please." the prince repeated more fervently, his tone growing quieter.

The knight hesitated, but gradually turned to face the prince behind him. Everything about Tino was slightly blurred and misshapen, but even if the Finn was a mile away and he didn't have his glasses on.. he'd be able to tell it was him.

"The bleeding stopped.." Tino pointed out, brushing a fingertip lightly over the deep purple bruise. "That's good."

Berwald grunted in agreement and nodded slightly, his muscles feeling tense and frozen. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, or what in the world Tino could possibly want from him. But being this close to him was.. almost dizzying with the intensity of his amethyst eyes.

The prince's hand trailed to the man's cheek, lingering there as the pad of his thumb brushed gently over the cheek. "You're pink again.." he said, warm breath barely ghosting over Berwald's face. "Does it still hurt..?"

The Swede shook his head unevenly and brokenly, unable to process most thought now.

Tino surveyed him for a moment more, not even bothering to blink. Unhurried, he drew closer and closer until his lips were barely meeting the knight's. The kiss was peaceful and gentle, but somehow still pleasing. Better than the other one they had shared.

Berwald was shocked into stillness, but slowly, he regained control of movement. He couldn't help but deepen the shy dove-like kiss, his hand moving to the small of Tino's back to press him closer.

The man tasted faintly of the tang of iron and blood, but the Finn could barely even notice. Even if this _was_ wrong he couldn't see how it felt so completely and utterly right. Perfect, even. The warm feeling was back, growing stronger in the pit of his stomach like the beginnings of a blazing fire.

Tino's lips grew more eager and he stopped comprehending. Tonight, for once, he was just going to feel. Tonight, he was going to go with it.


	14. Chapter 14

"Disgusting." Sigurd muttered venomously to himself, indigo eyes narrowed in annoyance as he gazed out the arched stone window. The paved stones were about as cold as his personality at the moment.

_Nothing puts me in a better mood than seeing the brat I'm going to kill practically eating another's face. _He scowled and rolled his eyes, his nails scraping idly against the rough surface of the window.

Sigurd didn't understand why the hell he had to be here. It was all his stupid father's fault.

".. Sigurd, you may rise."

The Norwegian gritted his teeth and got to his feet stiffly, having been kneeling. His father had made him bow in his presence from the age of four – and it was better to just listen to him. Sigurd had learned that the hard way.

The king surveyed him carefully, chin resting on his heavily jeweled hand. His clothes were so gaudy and overdone that Sigurd swore one day he'd fall over from the sheer wait.

".. Well?" the prince finally said impatiently, crossing his arms. "What did you call me here for, father?"

Father took his time, as usual. ".. I've arranged a betrothal for you, Sigurd."

Sigurd blanched, the little color in his face immediately fleeing for cover. "What?" he gasped in utter shock, gaping outwardly.

"A betrothal." the king repeated more sternly, an edge creeping into his voice.

"... With who?" the prince was seething, but he forced his voice to be in an eerily calm tone.

"He's a prince in the kingdom of Finland. We want to form an alliance with them. It would benefit us greatly, Sigurd."

".. Form an alliance." he repeated coolly, eyes growing as cold as splintering shards of ice. He slowly shook his head, ".. You're mad."

"Sigurd!" the king's voice rose dangerously as his hand curled into a tight fist. "Watch your tongue.." he warned in a low growl, beginning to glare. His blue eyes were as blank as always. Cold. Emotionless. Unloving.

"You know what..?" Sigurd closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath, but it didn't help.

He snapped. Father was always telling him to do this, to do that, he took lessons for hours on end, he spent his free time doing useless things just because he was told to. He had been stuck in a rut for _years_. Threats always crept stealthily behind the commands. The king didn't care for the welfare of his son – Sigurd was just a meaningless puppet to him. And puppets had to learn to do what they were told...

Pain. The Norwegian remembered a lot of it. He had always been a stubborn kid. It was part of his being. But.. one could also call it a curse. If he let one minuscule toe step out of line, father was there. His rings and jewelry didn't soften the blows that fell.

Servants became timid little ants around the King of Norway, quivering so much that they practically couldn't do their work. As he always said.. he would only accept anything more than perfect. They wanted to quit. They wanted to run away. But the consequence of that would be worse than staying.

"You know what..?" Sigurd repeated, both hands clenched into white-knuckle fists. "_No_."

"You _will_ do as I say, Sigurd." the king rose intimidatingly to his feet, greatly emphasizing their height difference. The prince was at least a head shorter.

He shook his head stubbornly. "No, damn it. I'm tired of listening to every single little _stupid_ thing you say." he spat the last few words. "I'm the Prince of Norway!"

"And I.." his father paused. The silence was forced and taut, tension's tendrils drawn tight. "Am the king."

"I don't really give a damn anymore."

The king sucked in a breath, shuddering with raw emotion. That was the one thing he would express – anger. Underneath all the furs and velvet hard muscle flexed, ready for the first blow. "I am the king!" he repeated, almost maniacally as his regal mask cracked.

Sigurd took a nervous, hesitant step backward. He knew that face all too well. "Father... I'm not your puppet anymore."

In a flash, the king's fist connected to Sigurd's jaw with a dull crack. The prince let out a pain-filled shriek and stumbled backwards in recoil, nearly tripping over the stuffed bear rug on the floor. Blood dribbled thickly and stickily from the wound, the king's rings and jewels having lopped through the skin where bare knuckle couldn't.

The defiance in Sigurd's eyes had fled, replaced with startling fear and dread. He had gone too far. He should have waited.. he should have just ran when he had the chance...

…

The prince let out a low sigh as he turned away from the window dejectedly. A strange emotion bubbled deep inside him, and he couldn't explain it. He.. he wanted desperately for somebody to like him. Even if it was just a little. Someone who could somehow.. see through the facade he put up. But it was pointless.

"Hey, hey Sig..!"

An extremely loud and admittedly obnoxious voice sounded from several yards down the hallway. Mathias was jogging towards the stoic prince as he waved. Sigurd narrowed his eyes out of habit. ".. What do you want?"  
"I just thought I'd say hi." the Dane beamed before tilting his head. "You looked kinda.. out of it. Is something up?"

Sigurd stared numbly before slowly shaking his head. ".. No. Nothing's 'up'. And my name's Sigurd."

"Alright, if you're sure." Mathias shrugged his shoulders and blinked a bit – completely ignoring the second half of what the prince said.

"How's your.." the Norwegian stopped himself before it managed to come all the way out. He was literally about to ask someone _else_ if they were okay. And this someone else was _Mathias_. What the hell was wrong with him? ".. Never mind." he finished lamely in a mumble, letting his gaze fall to the floor.

"My head, you mean?" the soldier's smile grew even wider, almost smugly, if that was possible.

".. No. That wasn't what I meant at all, Mathias." he retorted quietly, frowning slightly.

"Oh. Well it's a lot better, don't worry. Just kinda sore."

"I _really _don't care." Sigurd said flatly, to himself more than anything. "And I wasn't worrying."

Mathias' smile faltered but he let out a laugh, "Ah.. well, okay. I didn't want you to anyways." he paused before quickly changing the subject. "You were looking out the window for awhile. Something cool out there?" He tried to glance around Sigurd.

"Huh..?" the Norwegian blinked and swiftly decided to lie. "No. I was just looking at the garden."

"Oh yeah. It's pretty big, isn't it? I told the gardener I'd help him out.. but after that, I couldn't find him anymore..." Mathias trailed off, sounding puzzled.

Sigurd nearly cracked a smile. No wonder the gardener wanted Mathias to stay out of his garden. What good was a bumbling fool with flowers?

The Dane shrugged it off and turned his cobalt gaze back onto the Prince. ".. How about this. Since you like the garden so much, I'll meet you there tomorrow night. I know of some pretty awesome spots!" he laughed and put his hands on his hips proudly.

"Wha-"

"See you tomorrow..!" Mathias was already running off like usual, back down the hallway from whence he came. It seemed Sigurd was stuck.

_What an idiot._ But Sigurd could feel the corner's of his mouth twitching in defiance.


	15. Chapter 15

Tino stirred groggily, his blonde hair much more mussed than usual. Why was he even bothering to wake up? He was still exhausted..

Something barely tickled his arm and he jolted upright, looking for the culprit.

.. Hold on. How in the world did he end up out here on the grass? Not to mention his lips felt slightly swollen. He touched a finger to them and frowned, his amethyst gaze beginning to glance around. The prince's lips spread into a small smile as he noticed the giant slumbering peacefully beside him – curled up uncharacteristically amongst the blades of grass.

Berwald had fallen asleep outside. They had _both _fallen asleep outside. Thoughts of the night rushed fondly and vividly back to Tino's mind. The smile couldn't help but grow exponentially. He gently brushed aside loose stands of the knight's hair from his face, causing the man to stir ever so slightly.

".. T'no..?" he muttered sleepily as his lids barely cracked open, not used to sunlight settling down upon the pair of them. A modest smile graced his face, almost shyly.

"Morning, Berwald." the Finn replied with a cheery laugh as he put his diminutive hand into Berwald's much larger one. "Did you, um.. sleep well?" he tilted his head, beaming.

The Swede replied with his usual characteristic nod, but this time, the smile wasn't able to leave his lips. It was firmly cemented there. "B'tter th'n ever."

Tino blinked, having not expected that. "And what made it better than all the other times you've slept?"

"You."

A drawn out silence passed before the prince let out a sheepish laugh, ".. Ahaha.. I didn't even do anything though."

Berwald pushed himself up into a sitting position and shook his head. "Thas' not true."

Tino raised an eyebrow curiously, planting his hands on the grass so he could lean forward. "What, then?"

"No one's 'ver accepted m' so much."

Again, the prince was bewildered. His violet eyes widened, "What.. what are you talking about? You're an absolute legend, Berwald!"

He shrugged his massive shoulders, "I d'n't care 'bout bein' famous.."

"Well, I mean.. everyone accepts you. You saved your village, right?"

"Yeah.." the knight's voice tapered off as he fell silent.

Tino placed a reassuring smile back on his face and gave Berwald's hand a gentle squeeze. "I bet that even the people who haven't accepted you – if there are any – would in a heartbeat once they got to know you."

The knight gradually reddened and he nodded his head timidly, eyes not able to meet Tino's. "T'no?"

"Hm?"

"... I l've you." his voice was surprisingly softer than usual; accent seeming to vanish all together.

"O-oh." a hesitant squeak was all that emerged from Tino's mouth. A mixture of emotions flooded over him, and he wasn't sure which he felt most. One was an overwhelming warm feeling that tickled at the very bottom of his tummy – making him feel better than he had felt in years. But the second feeling... was trying to ruin all of that. He knew he loved Berwald back, that was a given. But what the hell was he supposed to do about the betrothal now? He couldn't put up a facade in front of the knight forever. Berwald was already probably extremely suspicious after meeting Sigurd.

Tino felt like an awful person. He was lying to the best and most important friend he had ever had. He swallowed thickly and replied hoarsely, ".. I love you too."

Berwald's smile outshone the sun as he pulled Tino gently and rested the prince carefully against his chest.

…

That evening, Mathias was simply running late. It wasn't uncharacteristic of him whatsoever. Truthfully, he had just fallen asleep in his office.

_Damn, if only there was something that I could set and have wake me up.. _But he knew something like that would probably never exist. Silly him.

Today.. or rather, tonight was possibly the most important day of his life. Or.. so he thought. Sigurd had definitely agreed to meet him at the gardens, right? Mathias' steps quickened as he thudded loudly down the stone steps. He rushed out into the garden, a torrent of chilly night air greeting him as soon as he left the castle. "Ugh.. I'm going to freeze my balls off." he muttered impatiently under his breath. But it was worth it – for Sigurd, anyways.

".. You came!" Mathias panted out as he halted to a quick stop nearby the cross-looking Norwegian prince. He couldn't help but break out into a huge grin. Running here was _definitely_ worth the physical exertion – especially since he got to see those pair of eyes.

"Of course I did." Sigurd retorted flatly, arms crossed. "And you've kept me waiting. Lazy ass."

The Dane rubbed the back of his head nervously and let out a forced laugh, "Haha.. sorry about that. I kind of was doing something."

The prince raised an eyebrow quizzically as his indigo gaze met Mathias'. "You mean sleeping?"

Mathias snorted loudly. "Shit. How'd you know?"

"I'm not an idiot."

"Of course not.." the soldier snickered. "That title's all mine, right?"

The small smile threatened to break out across Sigurd's face again, no matter how much he didn't want it to. "Of course."

"Good." he flashed him a thumbs up. "I don't want anyone to beat me at my own game."

The Norwegian rolled his eyes and turned his back to the Dane. "You were going to show me the gardens, correct?"

"Oh yeah! I forgot." he said sheepishly.

"Idiot. Why do you think we came out here in the first place?" Sigurd snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Err.. good point." Mathias muttered and slapped himself smartly in the forehead. Stupid. "Anyways..! I'm going to show you something cool."

"Hurry up. It's as cold as hell."

"And I was under the impression hell was pretty damn hot." Mathias laughed and lunged to grab Sigurd's petite hand. "That means I have all the time in the world tonight, right?"

".. Whatever." Sigurd mumbled. His eyes were carefully averted, but he didn't pull his hand away.

"It'll be worth it. Don't worry." Mathias began leading him into the foliage, resisting the urge to break out into his usual run. That didn't seem like something Sigurd would.. fancy.

Step after step led them deeper and deeper into the wide expanse of garden. Sigurd was wondering if Mathias was going to succeed in getting them both hopelessly lost. He wouldn't be surprised whatsoever. For once, his patience wasn't wearing thin. Something somewhat shocking, considering it was freezing.

"So.. I found this one day when I was walking around."

"You mean slacking off?"

"Ahaha.. of course not! Would I ever do something like that? It was my day off."

"Sure it was, Mathias."

The Dane cleared his throat after a pause, coming to a stop. "We're here."

What rested in front of them was a large glade. Trees frosted with flowers of pink and white calmly stood sentinel around a wide, crystal clear pond. Weeping willow branches occasionally stretched far enough in the wind to cause the water to ripple as they ghosted over the surface of the pond. A white bench sat underneath one of the many trees, the paint chipping slightly.

"I brought the bench here. I don't even know when these trees were planted.. they seem too old to have been here after the castle was built." Mathias plucked one of the pink blossoms off of a nearby tree, puzzled.

"Mathias this is.. ..." Sigurd trailed off, his blue eyes widened in awe as if they wanted to take in as much as they could.

"Is what?"

"... Perfect." 


	16. Chapter 16

Any chance of Mathias being able to contain his grin shattered when Sigurd said that. He slung an arm loosely around the slim body of the Norwegian and pulled him partially into his side, "You really mean it? I was gonna repaint the bench for you but I didn't have time."

Time seemed almost to slow down and move like a gel as Mathias' arm slid around him. He could feel his cheeks heat up embarrassingly to a shade of pink. With how pale he was, even the most minor blush was apparent. "I-idiot." he stammered, roughly shoving the Dane's arm away. "I didn't give you permission to do that."

"Oh." the soldier blinked and fell silent for a moment, running a hand slowly through his hair. ".. Can I have permission now, then?"

"No."

"Aw, damn it. Why not?"

"Because I don't want your stupid self touching me." the Norwegian grumbled, crossing his arms tightly.

"I thought you said you were freezing earlier. Do you want to be warm or not?" Mathias snorted and rolled his eyes at the stubborn attitude the prince was displaying. Honestly, how could someone be so silly?

"I think I'd rather be cold." he replied flatly, forcing his gaze to stay straight ahead. That stupid, idiotic grin of Mathias' bugged him. He couldn't place it, but it affected him a lot more than he would ever want to admit.

"Oh, ouch. That's harsh." the Dane sighed and fell silent before he slipped out of his jacket. He placed the garment gently around Sigurd's shoulders. "That better?"

Sigurd had to admit, it really was. The jacket smelled strongly of the Dane – a smell that somewhat resembled the earthiness of the woods nearby the castle. He liked it. "What about you?" the Norwegian narrowed his eyes slightly, now surveying the soldier beside him.

Mathias shrugged his shoulders lightly and smiled, "Nah, I'll be fine. Don't worry."

"Again, I wasn't worrying." Sigurd retorted smoothly, almost as if he had rehearsed it. "But.. whatever..." His indigo eyes easily spotted the goosebumps pricking up on Mathias' tan arms, but he said nothing. _Why the hell would he give up his jacket when he's colder than I am?_

"Right, right." the Dane laughed. "I forgot about your incapability to worry."

"I'm a prince. What point is there to worry?"

"Well.. what if your people were in trouble? Wouldn't you worry?"

Sigurd shook his head, "No. My fath-" he broke off and swallowed thickly. "I mean, the king would take care of it. He usually does, anyways."

"The king _usually_ takes care of it?" Mathias' eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Why not always? Doesn't he care about the welfare of his people?"

The prince grew obviously more uncomfortable, his back rigid. "... Sometimes he thinks something isn't worth his time." he replied after a pause. His voice had completely lost the hard edge it usually held. _A lot of the time, actually..._

"Wow, no offense but.. he sounds kind of like a bitch." the Dane laughed nervously after he spoke, not sure if he had gone so far as to insult the King of Norway when the prince himself was standing right here.

Sigurd stared before beginning to nod, "You're right." His hand instinctively traced the scar on his cheek from when his father had punched him.

Mathias frowned, not liking how solemn Sigurd had grown. His blue eyes looked curiously to the prince's hand, watching its movements. When the hand dropped, he bent closer. Close enough for Sigurd to feel the man's breath on the side of his face.

The Norwegian quickly slapped his hand back over the scar when he realized Mathias was so close. He took a small step backwards and scowled as he hissed, "Don't get so close to me."

The Dane's frown deepened as he straightened up, "What happened to your fac-"

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong with it, Mathias."

"I'm pretty sure I saw something." he let out a small sigh and gently placed his hand on the one Sigurd was using to cover the scar. "Let me see it."

"No!" Sigurd slapped his hand away harshly, leaving a stinging red mark on the man's skin. "Y-you don't have any right to touch me!"

"... I thought.." Mathias began slowly in a timid voice. He broke off and shook his head. "Never mind. I think I'm going to go back inside." he rubbed at his arms, mainly for something to do with his hands.

The prince had seen genuine concern in the bright blue pools of Mathias' eyes. But it was gone now. Shattered. The brightness had dimmed considerably. _Why does something stupid I say affect him so much? It's not like we're friends, or anything... are we?_

The soldier stood there awkwardly for several more moments. ".. Yeah. I'm gonna head back. Sorry, I guess." he mumbled, rubbing the back of his head. He turned to leave, not wanting to be the subject of Sigurd's glare any longer. _I know I saw a scar on his face. I seriously did. Why is it such a touchy subject for him?_

Several moments passed and several steps were taken. ".. Mathias?"

Another sigh, "What is it, Sigurd. Is there anything else I've done wrong that you'd like to point out?"

"Are we... … friends?"

"Friends?" Mathias repeated, flabbergasted.

"Yes."

"That's not up to me."

Sigurd huffed impatiently, "Well, why not?"

"You're the prince, right? I'm just an 'idiot' soldier."

The prince scowled again, "Ugh. Well then, since I'm the prince you have to answer what I say honestly."

".. Alright."

"Do you.. do you want to be friends?" Sigurd's expression grew extremely timid, almost childlike as he looked down at his hands. In his eyes, that was one of the hardest things he had ever had to ask. Kids didn't like him much when he was little. Probably because of his father – parents were worried their kids would be targeted if anything ever went wrong. So they quickly passed by the little Norwegian prince without a single glance, ushering their children speedily.

Mathias turned to face the prince again, looking extremely puzzled at the sudden change in mood. "What?"

He really had to say it again? It had been hard enough the first time. "Do you want to be my friend." he forced out, frowning as he refused to look at the man in front of him.

"... Of course. Why wouldn't I?" Mathias let out a small laugh and shook his head. _Why was that such a big deal to him? He probably had loads of friends, being a prince and all. _

"Just.. just because." Sigurd's lips were quivering, fighting the smile that was fighting to shove its way onto his face.

"Yes, Sigurd. I really, _really _want to be your friend." Mathias corrected enthusiastically, an eyebrow raised curiously.

Not able to stop it any longer, a minuscule smile graced Sigurd's face as he looked up at the Dane.

".. Holy shit. Are you smiling?" the soldier gaped outright. Why didn't Sigurd do it more often? It lit his face up almost.. almost beautifully. Perfectly.

"S-shut up..!" Sigurd protested, placing one of his delicate hands over his mouth to hide it. "I'm not!"

"You definitely were.." Mathias laughed loudly. "Don't try and hide it!"

"I wasn't!"

"Then what's under your hand?"

"... Nothing. Nothing's under my hand." Sigurd told him coolly.

"Okay. If nothing's there, then show me."

The Norwegian slowly removed it, having forced his face into an emotionless mask. The corners of his lips began twitching as he spotted the grin on Mathias' face. And suddenly, the mask broke again as the smile returned with twice its strength.

"Ha! There it is!" Mathias pointed right at his face.

".. Shut up." Sigurd grumbled, trying so hard to look and sound unhappy but utterly failing.

The Dane pretended to pull out a pad of paper and a pen. "Let the record show that Sigurd has now smiled." he mimed writing something down. 


	17. Chapter 17

A snowy-haired teen nervously crept into the rich, lavish chambers of the king. The walls were draped with fancy chromatic silks, laced with glimmering beads of all sorts and sizes. The floors inlaid with elaborate mosaics depicting different settings of the king that boasted of his greatness – settings which had never really happened at all. It took a bit of effort to walk around all the gold and silver plated furniture that sat in the room. He gulped and pulled a bit at his collar, imagining it restricting around his windpipe.. just like the king would probably do with his own hands if he was in a bad mood. "Y-your majesty..?" he announced, voice cracking slightly.

"You may approach me, Emil." the King of Norway's voice boomed intimidatingly from the throne.

Emil took a few timid steps forward before practically throwing himself into a bow before he could meet the king's cold, cold eyes. "I-I.. I did what you asked, s-sir." he cleared his throat, attempting to rid himself of the stutter.

".. And?" the king raised an eyebrow, eyes narrowing slightly. "What did you find out for me?"

"Ah, u-um.. the castle in Finland is a lot different than ours, actually. The servants actually w-want to w-work th-" he quickly broke off and laughed nervously, feeling his forehead grow damp with sweat. "Heh, heh.. I mean.. they d-don't have nearly as many servants as we do, b-but the work still gets done.."

"Is that _all_ you did in Finland? Idle around with the blasted _peasants_?"

Emil let out a distressed squawk and bowed his head even more, "I-I apologize, your majesty..!" He slowly allowed his gaze to meet the man's and immediately wished he hadn't. The temperature in the room had dropped considerably. A curvaceous woman was perched on one of the king's knees, the dark makeup giving her a sinister look as she sneered down at Emil. "I d-_did_ find something out about Prince Tino."

".. Go on."

"He has this.. this massive man following him a-around all the time. I th-think he must be an e-escort of some sort. B-but.. I caught them... um.."

"You caught them _what?_" the king growled in a feral manner when Emil trailed off.

The Icelander paled and his knees began to tremble, having been forced to bow for too long. He swallowed, "They were.. th-they were kissing.." He tensed, preparing himself for the angry outburst that was sure to come.

The woman let out a high pitched creepy giggle, attempting to stifle it with a long-nailed hand that.. eerily resembled claws. Claws that were as dark as ebony and curved dangerously.

".. Interesting." the man finally snorted abrasively and threw an arm around the woman, roughly pulling her into his chest. "I wonder if the Finnish king knows his son is such an utter whore. Ah well. It won't matter for long."

Emil blanched further, blinking rapidly. "It won't matter..?" he repeated in a hesitant tone. "W-what do you mean, sir?"

"You really think I planned on having a blasted treaty with _them_?" the laughter that erupted cruelly from the king's mouth caused the Icelander to jolt in surprise, his eyes widening. The woman smirked and brushed her hand down the ruler's chest, her eyes took on almost a crimson aura.

"But.. but the betrothal.."

"I never cared about the damn betrothal." he paused, rubbing his goatee thoughtfully. ".. Or Sigurd either, for that matter."

Emil was shocked into complete silence, his muscles freezing up. Speech was torn from him. How could someone not care about their own son? He knew this was the king, the king whom vicious rumors were spread about. But.. Sigurd was his only son. The only heir to the throne.

"You seem surprised." an evil look arose in the king's eyes as his face broke into a wide grin. "Don't worry, Emil. I have no reason to kill you yet."

The Icelander found himself on his feet, taking a few quick, backward steps towards the door. "S-Sigurd.. Sigurd's the heir t-to the throne, your majesty... what a-about-"

"I have something in mind." he snapped caustically "It doesn't concern the likes of _you_."

"I.. I don't understand.." Emil let out a raspy cough and tugged at his collar again.

The king let out a deep sigh, observing the teen before him as if he was a bug not worthy to be in his presence. ".. Get out of here, Emil. I'm getting tired of you. When I have need of you, I'll send for you again." he waved him off impatiently. "Go back to Finland."

"I-"

"_Now_."

Emil didn't force it any longer. He turned and literally fled desperately from the lavish chambers, hearing the heavy door close with a deep thud behind him. He had never wanted to get as far away from someone as he did now. _Who was the woman on his lap..?_

"My king..." the woman whispered bewitchingly, tracing her claw over his cheek. Her eyes shimmered knowingly, deepening in color. "You should've killed that idiot boy.." she let out a cynical chuckle. Wings black as night began to force their way sickeningly out of her ivory skin. An equally black devil's tail sprouted and curled around the man possessively.

The king nodded instinctively as her eyes bored endlessly into his. "Yes, Lilith. I'm sorry..."

Her bittersweet rose lips brushed against his neck, "You.. you're going to kill for me.. right?" she whispered seductively, letting an expression of innocence fill her face. "It'll make up for everything.."

Another abrupt nod, "I promise. Anything, Lilith."

"Finland will be yours.. just another part of your _magnificent_ kingdom.." she drawled on, letting her claws slip yet lower. "And... the Savior of Sweden.. will be _mine_."

"Yes, Lilith. Anything."

…

"T'no. Cl'se yer eyes."

Tino immediately did as commanded and let his lavender orbs slide shut. He quivered with suspense and about a half a second passed before he began to crack open an eyelid anyways. "Berwald.. what is it..?" He was able to spot a tiny smile on the knights lips through the curtain of eyelashes, but that was all.

"I got y' s'methin'."

"Me? A surprise?" the Finn nearly jumped up and down, and even then he was bobbing excitedly on his feet. He felt something cold and metal be slipped around his neck, and he could sense the Swede's fingers fumbling difficultly with something.

"Th're. Y' can op'n 'em." the knight stepped back, all to eager to observe Tino's expression.

Violet eyes shot open and immediately dove south to see what rested around his neck. On a silver chain rested an amazingly ornately carved argent dove. It was so detailed that the prince wondered who in the world could have made it. Where its eye would be rested a tiny cut amethyst. "B-Berwald.. wow... how did you get this?" he looked up at the Swede and gaped, cheeks flaming from the weight of such a gift. "It must've have been expensive... I don't deserve this."

"Y' d'serve ev'rythin'." Berwald replied matter-of-factly in his usual grunt with a small shrug of his shoulders. The bright blush on the prince's cheeks caused his own to turn slightly pink.

"W-well.. still..!" Tino stammered, attempting to brush off the compliment. "How in the world did you get this..? I've never seen anything like it."

"I m'de it."

"You..? B-but.. and when?"

"I w'rked on it wh'le y' were 'sleep."

"It only took you one night?" the Finn questioned, now stunned.

"No. 's been a few weeks.." the knight replied somewhat sheepishly, now looking down. "S'rry if y' don't l'ke it."

"No, no..! Berwald, it's not like that." he assured, taking one of the man's hands. "I _love _it. I'm sorry if you didn't get much sleep."

"It w's m' choice." but Berwald's smile managed to grow just slightly. He gave the hand he now held a small squeeze. "I.. w'nted y' t' 'member m'."

Tino laughed loudly, causing the Swede's expression to grow confused. "How could I ever forget you? You're the _Savior _of Sweden, silly."

".. Oh."

"And here's a secret." he tugged on Berwald's arm, forcing him to crouch slightly. Tino stretched up on his tiptoes to whisper something in his ear, ".. I love you for it." He pecked the knight quickly and somewhat forcibly on the lips before turning and running back towards the castle.

The pink in the Swede's cheeks grew and he was left there, completely stunned.

"C'mon, Berwald..!" the Finn giggled from afar, "It's time for dinner!" 


	18. Chapter 18

**I'm happy you've all stuck with the story for this long. And also.. surprised. I didn't think it would get this popular. So basically, I'm saying thanks. Thank you. ****3******

_Okay, this is a really stupid idea. … You know what, scratch that. This is the stupidest idea I've ever had. _

Mathias was completely torn. What had even possessed him to go out into town and buy something for Sigurd, he had no idea. The only thing he ever went into town for was beer. Maybe he figured the prince needed cheering up – he had been.. strangely disconnected from reality. Even more so than usual. The Dane was determined to crack the hard shell and help him open up, no matter what it took.

Go figure. Nothing he felt made sense to him anymore.

He held a small, white stuffed kitten in his hands with a red ribbon tied neatly into a bow around its neck. He didn't even know if Sigurd liked cats. Once again, he had done something without even giving it a single shred of thought.

_Maybe I really am an idiot.._

Mathias' gaze slowly rose to the door in front of him. If he stood here all day, maybe Sigurd was just eventually come out and he wouldn't have to make a move. But what kind of a soldier would that make him? A bumbling fool, for sure. Slowly, he brought his fist to the oak. It felt almost as if he was moving through a thick gel. His knuckles hesitantly rapped.

"... Who is it?" a voice questioned, sounding tired and impatient.

A nervous swallow, but he couldn't help but break into a smile when he heard the prince. "Mathias."

Sigurd could practically hear the grin in his voice. "What do you want?"

".. Just to talk." the Dane decided slowly, moving his hands behind his back.

"I don't feel like it. Go away."

Mathias sighed, his lips forming a thin line. Was he really that unwanted? "Okay, scratch the talking. I just want to give you something."

A pause. "... What is it?"

"You'll have to open the door if you want to find out..." the soldier trailed off, hoping that Sigurd's curiosity would beat his grumpiness.

Seconds passed.

A minute.

As expected, the doorknob eventually clicked open. Sigurd peeked out of the crack, his eyes narrowed slightly. "I don't see that you have anything."

"I do. And it's a surprise!" the Dane grinned, rocking back and forth on his feet slightly. "Because friends give each other surprises."

"They do?"

"Yeah. And you're about to get your first." he laughed. "Now.. close your eyes."

Sigurd eyed him suspiciously. ".. What are you going to do?"

"You'll see. It won't be anything bad – promise!"

"I wasn't thinking it would be bad.." Sigurd frowned slightly. "But now I am."

"Oh, just close your eyes."

Grudgingly, Sigurd let his indigo eyes slide shut. He scowled and crossed his arms.

_How the hell does he manage to look cute when he's pissed off? Freaking Norwegians, man.. _Mathias shook his head slowly, smirking. "Hold out your hands.

The prince's eyes fluttered open, "Why? What are you putting in them?"

"You'll see!" the Dane rolled his eyes and snorting, his grin growing. "Just keep your eyes shut, okay?"

".. Alright." Sigurd hesitantly closed his eyes and brought his slender hands forward. "I'm warning you, it better not be something disgusting."

"Come on – would I really do something like that?"

"Yes."

Mathias snorted loudly again and gently placed the cat into his arms. He quickly glanced up to observe Sigurd's expression. He wasn't sure how the prince would react, exactly. He was hard to read – not one to wear his emotions proudly on his sleeve.

The Norwegian's hands clasped around the cat and he frowned, puzzling over what it could be before he opened his eyes. Looking down at the animal, he tilted his head slightly. The corners of his mouth quivered, again in defiance. ".. Mathias?"

"Yeah?"

"How did you know I liked cats..?" he questioned quietly, running a finger softly against the smooth velvet.

"Hm? Oh.. it was just a guess. You were reading this big book the other day that said something about cats. I looked over your shoulder."

".. Oh." Sigurd merely blinked, the corners of his mouth twitching a bit more.

"So.. do you like it?" Mathias crouched so he could observe the prince's expression better.

"What do you think?" he retorted, raising his gaze level to the Dane's. The smile was nearly apparent.

"Ahaha! So I nailed it?"

"... Why did you get me this?" this question came as a surprise, and meekly than others before. The curious child was back in his voice, eager to know.

"We're friends. That's what friends do."

"Am I supposed to get you something you now?"

"Only if you want to."

Sigurd blinked, bringing the cat closer to his chest. "I don't think I want to."

Mathias let out a laugh and ruffled the ashy blonde hair, pulling it partially out of the clip. "That's the Sig I know."

"I-Idiot..!" the Norwegian stammered, attempting to flatten the tangle that was his hair. His hands were removed from his hair. He glared up at the Dane, "What are you doing?"

"Fixing it." he replied simply, taking the cross out of his hair and running his fingers through it the strands.

Mathias' face was too close. Really, really close. Sigurd could even see the minute bit of stubble on his chin. Little nicks and scars on the man's chin. His face flushed to a slight pink and he quickly threw his gaze elsewhere.

"Hm? What's the matter, Sig?" He_ seems kinda hot. Maybe he's getting sick? It was pretty cold outside the other day. I guess it's my fault._

"..."

"C'mon, speak up." Mathias pulled away and surveyed him curiously, an eyebrow raised. "Do you not feel well or something? I'm not stupid."

_Yes, you really are..._ Sigurd thought traitorously, but merely shook his head.

"Did I do something? You don't like the cat?"

"No, no.. I like the cat." the Norwegian sighed.

".. Do you wanna know why the ribbon's red?"

"Alright, fine." _Anything to get my mind off of his stupid, idiotic face. _

"It's red cause that's my favorite color! You'll be able to remember me." Mathias beamed proudly as if he had just accomplished the most amazing feat in the world.

".. Well damn it." Sigurd let slip his thoughts before he was able to stop himself.

"Huh?" the Dane's grin slackened as a look of confusion replaced it.

"Nothing. Never mind." Sigurd's tone didn't want to be pressed, and the soldier could piece that much together.

"Alright, if you say so..." his eyebrows were knitted together. He remained like that for a moment before suddenly lighting up again, "Oh, right! I had another surprise for you."

"Really? But you already gave me something." if you listened close enough, the Norwegian sounded vaguely guilty. He hadn't ever thought of buying someone a blasted present.

"This surprise is even better."

Sigurd's eyes widened but he nodded. "Alright. What is it..?"

"I think you can guess what you're going to have to do."

The prince pouted, but quickly let his eyelids fall. "Don't keep me waiting."

Mathias fiddled nervously for a moment before stooping and pressing his lips briefly but chastely to Sigurd's porcelain cheek. He didn't even know himself why in the world he was doing it. But who said surprises couldn't be for two people?

The prince's eyes flew open in shock and his pupils abruptly focused on the contact. He felt his face practically get drenched in heat. He lingered for a split second before shoving Mathias away, but not as roughly as he normally would have done. ".. Idiot.."

"I know." the soldier just laughed. 


	19. Chapter 19

**I am so so sorry about how long of a break I'v****e taken! I promise I'm going to be updating more often now! This includes my Beauty and the Beast story and Senior Year. After rereading through them I think I've regathered my muse. Hopefully all you readers are still there and eager! You guys are awesome! **

The oranges and yellows of the sunset casted long shadows over the castle as the sun sunk lower and lower behind the hills in the distance. Tino was sat in Berwald's usual chair, puzzling over a book of fairy tales and fables. The room was growing too dark as the daylight disappeared and he let out a forlorn sigh, "... Berwald?"

The knight's head snapped up mid-snore from the corner of the room. "Nn.. wha'?" he questioned earnestly, despite having just being woken up.

The Finn stifled a laugh. He didn't want to point out how crooked Berwald's glasses were or how ruffled his hair was. "Have you ever read these?" he brandished the hard-backed book.

Berwald's eyes narrowed slightly as he attempted to focus on the curly script engraved on the front of the stories. "Fa'ry tales?"

"Yes. I found them on Mathias' desk. I never would've guessed he was a reader..." he admitted, sounding a bit embarrassed. Now that he thought about it, he probably should've asked the Dane if he could borrow them before just taking the book. In retrospect it definitely was smarter – but just where had Mathias been lately? He was a slight bit nervous to press the man on anything after that.. episode in the hall that had turned into a full blown fist fight.

"M'eith'r." Berwald replied with a shrug of his massive shoulders.

"So.. do you think the stories in here are really true?"the Finn spoke tentatively after a prolonged pause. He surveyed the man carefully with his violet eyes. "Cinderella, Little Red Riding Hood.. all of it."

The knight seemed to be deliberating something mentally, but led no clues as to what it actually was. ".. Maybe." he finally answered carefully, crossing his arms.

"Maybe?" Tino raised his eyebrow curiously. "Why just maybe?"

"We'll nev'r know fer sure." was the grunted reply, but something in his icy gaze said differently.

The prince's brow furrowed and his rosy lips twisted into a pout. "You sure there's not.. any merit to them? An ounce of truth?"

Berwald didn't meet his eyes. "I don't know."

Tino let out a cooped up sigh. It didn't seem like Berwald was going to talk anytime soon. He'd have to press him on the matter later, though he really wasn't all that good at persuading people to do things for him. If only he had a puppy dog pout as good as Mathias'... "Heh.. I just wondered, you know? It's kind of fun to pretend fairy tales are real.. I know, I know, call me childish."

The knight quickly shook his head, "I d'n't think 's childish. S'metimes y'need s'mething to think 'bout other th'n real'ty."

"Yeah, I guess so." the prince let out a snort, "When I was little I used to have dreams that I was Rapunzel, and someone came to let me play outside of the castle. Ahaha.. kinda funny to think about now, me having hair that long."

Berwald cracked a smile and attempted to pat down his own flaxen locks, though it didn't do much to flatten the ruffled nest. "'d 'lways climb up th' tower t' save s'meone as beautiful as you."

Tino's cheeks abruptly flushed, turning the shade of ripe raspberries. He shyly glanced away and looked out the castle window, "Thanks, Berwald. I wish I could do something for you sometimes."

"Jus' bein' you 's good 'nough." the knight commented with a nonchalant shrug of his massive shoulders.

The prince couldn't fight the smile breaking across his lips, before a rogue thought surfaced in his mind. He tried to keep all nervous and jittery tones from creeping into his voice, "Oh! I was meaning to ask you... what all exactly did you hear when Mathias was um.. _talking _to me in the hallway?"

Berwald's neutral expression darkened ever so slightly at the mere mention of the Dane's name, "Jus' heard yellin'.. 'nd he w's m'streatin' y'."

"Well... here's the thing, actually.." Tino swallowed nervously, knowing he was sorta.. kinda breaking a pinky promise. But it's not like Berwald had anyone to tell! He just felt bad, because pinky promises were essentially the most sacred promises ever. "We were arguing about Sigurd."

The knight raised a thick eyebrow quizzically, silently pressing Tino to go on. Not that he would ever admit it, but the Finn sometimes took all the time in the world to get to the point.

"I think he um, has feelings for Prince Sigurd." Berwald managed to look slightly surprised despite his stoic expression. "I really, really wasn't trying to hurt his feelings or anything! I mean as a friend, I felt like I should at least warn him of the potential consequences, right? Besides.. have you seen how Sigurd acts? I don't think he'd ever appreciate a, err.. person like Mathias. Honestly, he gives me the creeps." Tino tried to explain the situation while still avoiding the tiny, minuscule detail that he was actually engaged to be married. How hard could that be to avoid, right?

The knight's brow furrowed as it often did when he thought things over. "M'thias 's an idiot." he said bluntly before adding thoughtfully, "'f he won't l'sten t' y' then it's his fault."

The Finn released his pent up breath, though the guilt from avoiding the real matter of the problem didn't take any moral weight from his shoulders. Darn it. "Yeah.. I guess you're right." he forced a smile and took Berwald's hand into his own. "Thanks." He silently made a promise to himself that he was most definitely going to tell the knight everything. This week. No take backs! 

* * *

The throne room of the Norway Palace seemed to be gathering more and more dust, and a sense of foreboding darkness along with it. The King of Norway was being corrupted from the inside out, his stony heart not putting up much of a moral fight. The scantily clad demon sat perched on her place at his knee, a knowing gleam in her eyes. "My king..." she began in a slow drawl. "I have a suggestion to make..."

"Anything." he replied mechanically, one of his bejeweled hands tightening around Lilith's waist as her forked tail swung slowly from side to side.

"I think we should speed up our plans. After all, my sisters could use another kingdom to feed off of." Lilith smirked coyly, pressing her blood red lips briefly to the man's cheek. "And I desperately know just _how _much you love to conquer territory."

The king's brow creased ever so slightly as if he was trying to recall some past thought, but his face quickly smoothed back over into stone. "You're right."

"Let's send one of my sisters now then... hm?" she dragged a wickedly curved, ebony nail down his cheek. "We'll get rid of your son, and set it up under the pretense of murder. Of course the foolish Finnish kingdom will pretend they had nothing to do with it.. mm... but it will give us the excuse for war." Her red eyes gleamed dangerously, "Plus, I never pass up the chance for delicious revenge.. with the Savior of Sweden in our clasp as well, I'll finally find the soul I've been looking for to make me truly and utterly immortal. Plus, I simply can't forgive him for what he did to Huldra, even if the bitch did have it coming..."


End file.
